


Fall Out

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [44]
Category: Glee
Genre: Brothership, Gen, M/M, Slash, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-06
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various and sundry meltdowns. PFLAG movie night. Bad apples. Reassigning chores.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teaser

**Author's Note:**

> Our continued thanks to **david_of_oz** for his editorial awesomeness.

Finn is not crying. Anybody’s eyes would water if they got pop in them. It’s sticky and it stings, and as soon as he takes a shower and washes it out of his eyes—and his hair and his _ears_ , how did it even _get_ in his ears—everything’ll be just fine, except for the whole thing where he and Kurt apparently don’t even speak the same fucking _language_ any more, and Kurt hates him, and horrible things are probably going to happen and nobody even seems to _care_ about it.

Yeah, everything’ll be just fine, except for all that.

Finn turns on the shower and cranks the hot water way up. How does he manage to fuck up something as simple as trying to explain why he’s worried about something that should just, well, it should be perfectly _obvious_ why he’s worried, and why can’t Kurt understand that? And yeah, Finn _knows_ he screwed it all up last year, that he wasn’t there and didn’t have Kurt’s back like he was supposed to, and that he practically let all that bad stuff happen, but that’s what he was trying to _say_ , and Kurt still doesn’t get it. Kurt’s even madder at Finn than before, but Finn can’t figure out what it is Kurt even wants. Not looking out for him was wrong, looking out for him is wrong – well, Finn’s obviously just too damn stupid to figure out the answer. 

He lets the hot water run over his head and his face, washing off the mess in his hair and skin. Once again, he’s saying and doing all the wrong things, and screwing everything up. Too stupid to say the right thing, too stupid to fix anything, too stupid to figure out what he’s doing that’s so wrong. Big dumb Finn, screwing it up, just like always. 

And that’s just water on his face, is all. It’s just water. 

 

Hannah looks at Rebecca and rolls her eyes when she sees Stevie walking over to join them – _with_ Cooper. Rebecca doesn’t mind Cooper as much, but Hannah doesn’t see why he can’t go play with one of the other kids instead of joining the three of them. 

“Hey!” Stevie says. “Cooper’s going to play with us today.”

“All right,” Hannah sighs. “What do you want to play?”

“I want to play Power Rangers,” Cooper says, and Hannah purses her lips. 

“We were _going_ to play American Idol,” Rebecca says. “All of us like it.”

“Hey, you could be a Power Ranger trying out!” Stevie suggests. “Hannah’s all three judges, ’cause she’s awesome, and I’m Ryan _and_ people trying out. Rebecca tries out too.”

“Okay,” Cooper complies after a moment. Hannah grins at Stevie and plops on the ground, trying to make her face look like Steven Tyler’s. That’s _hard_ but Rebecca helps her and she thinks she’s almost got it. They play for about half of recess before Cooper suddenly starts laughing. “Hey, my mom said that there are gay kids who want to change school rules!”

Hannah looks at Cooper, frowning, and then looks at Stevie, trying to remember if Stevie’s brother was at the same meeting as Noah and Kurt. “So?” Stevie asks. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I dunno,” Cooper shrugs, deflating a little. “I just— I didn’t know there _were_ any gay people here.”

“So what if there are?” Hannah snaps. “People that don’t like gay people are just like, like— like Nazis!” she finishes triumphantly, remembering what her mom said about bad people who were like Hitler. Hitler is _really_ bad, though, so it’s probably more like the bad people who don’t like gay people are Nazis, and they have a leader who’s like Hitler. That would be bad, if they were _all_ Hitlers.

“Hey!” Cooper glares at her. “I didn’t say I didn’t like gay people! I just don’t know any,” he adds defensively.

“Yeah, well, _I_ do,” Stevie says. “My brother’s friend Kurt is gay, but he’s awesome. He brought us clothes and stuff last year. Who cares if he’s gay?”

“Okay, one gay person,” Cooper says. “Still not a lot!”

“I know a lot of gay people!” Hannah chirps. “Kurt and my brother, and the Berrys at synagogue, and my brother’s old girlfriend Santana, and oh, _her_ girlfriend, too, I think? Only she’s sort of gay, not all the way gay. And they know even more gay people, but I haven’t met all of them.” She shrugs. “They’re just like everybody else. Except they kiss different people. But kissing’s gross no matter who’s doing it.”

“Especially when it’s your _brother_ ,” Stevie groans. “I went to get a sandwich last night and I thought they were gone but Sam was in the kitchen with Mercedes kissing her neck and eww.” He makes a face. 

Hannah giggles. “Do you think it’s because of singing? They all kiss so much!”

“Maybe we shouldn’t sing?” Stevie asks. “Or at least not when we get older.”


	2. 3x25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Various and sundry meltdowns. PFLAG movie night. Bad apples. Reassigning chores.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Playlist for 3x25 "Fall Out"](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL00E1DF9858CECF89)

Puck automatically wakes up around 5:15 on Friday morning, then rolls over, wraps his arms back around Kurt, and closes his eyes again. Kurt had decided the night before that they were skipping Starbucks in the morning, which means he still has hours yet. 

The next time Puck wakes up, the sun is up, and Finn’s up and stomping around in the way he does when he’s worked up about something. Puck sighs and looks at Kurt, who’s blinking awake. “No better mood?”

“Apparently not. You going to shower?”

“Yeah. You?”

Puck shakes his head. “I’ll get dressed and head downstairs. I don’t smell anything cooking. You want sausage, waffles, what?”

“Hmm. Sausage, potatoes, eggs?”

“Sounds good.” Puck slides out of bed and pulls on his jeans from the day before, then rummages around in Kurt’s drawers until he finds a black pullover that looks like it’ll more or less fit. Dressed, he heads downstairs and starts cooking, drinking a cup of coffee. He’s flipping over the sausage when Finn galumphs in and pours himself a cup of coffee without even looking in Puck’s direction.

“Morning,” Puck says mildly, suppressing a smile. 

“Whatever,” Finn grumbles, drinking his coffee where he’s leaning against the counter. 

“Fried or scrambled?”

“Scrambled.”

“Noted.” Puck continues cooking in silence, finishing the sausage and scrambling some eggs in the leftover grease. Kurt appears in the doorway after that, crossing to kiss Puck and then to pour some coffee.

“Morning.”

Finn doesn’t respond, just continues sipping his coffee. Puck rolls his eyes as he hands the food to Kurt to put on the table, and he pushes his foot on top of Finn’s toes lightly. “Be civil, asshole.”

“Ow! Hey!” Finn’s coffee sloshes over his hand. “Fine, _asshole_. Good morning, Kurt.”

“So much ass this morning!” Kurt smirks slightly and sits down. 

“Ass just follows Puck wherever he goes,” Finn grumbles. 

“Little known syndrome. Ass magnet.”

“Better look that shit up on WebMD and do something about it, dude.”

“It doesn’t interfere with my life.” Puck grins. “So there’s no point in treating it.”

“Well, enjoy your ass magnetism, then. Whatever,” Finn says. 

“I will.”

“Thank you for cooking, Noooahhh.”

“Stoppit.”

“Uh-uh.”

“God, you two are obnoxious!”

“You don’t have to eat with us, then. You don’t have to eat at all.” Kurt rolls his eyes. “You can go eat a scone at Starbucks with the crazy brigade and Mike and Tina.”

“I can eat a fucking Poptart in my truck,” Finn says. “If my presence at breakfast is gonna cause a problem.”

“You’re the one snapping at _us_ , not the other way around.”

“You’re the one who’s acting like everything is all peace, love, and glitter–crapping doves!”

“Because in my own fucking house, it is!”

“Obviously!” Finn stands up. “What is _wrong_ with you people?”

“Am I supposed to be dressed in black and wearing widow’s weeds for some reason?” Puck blinks and looks down. Oops? 

“I don’t know what you’re supposed to do. I don’t fucking _care_ what you’re supposed to do,” Finn says, slamming his chair back in. 

“You seem to, since apparently whatever I am doing is _wrong_!”

All three of their phones start to chime and buzz, and they reach for them almost automatically. Puck sighs as he unlocks his screen. Tina. 

_WLIO last night, other stations this morning. NBC in Dayton, Toledo this morning!_

“Fuck,” Finn mutters, shoving his phone back into his pocket. 

“Yes, too bad we’re getting the _publicity we wanted_.”

“I don’t care about the publicity. I care about _you_!” Finn kicks the leg of the chair and goes to stomp off out of the kitchen.

“This isn’t the Mafia, Finn! No one’s putting a hit out on us!”

“Fuck you!” Finn calls back over his shoulder as he disappears back up the stairs. 

“Well.” Kurt sighs and stabs at his egg. “That went well.”

Puck snorts. “You have such a descriptive way with words.”

 

Mrs. Vey stops Puck on his way into history. “I thought I spotted you in the background on the news last night, you and Finn and Brittany all.”

“Oh, yeah,” Puck nods. “We were at the meeting. Finn talked, even.”

“Well, I think it’s an admirable pursuit. Did you see the piece?” When Puck shakes his head, she continues. “The reporter presented it in a very favorable light. I hope that will help.”

“Yeah, it’d be nice,” Puck admits, then takes his seat as she stops someone else on their way to their seat. 

“How’d it go last night?” Sam asks a moment later as he sits down. 

“It’s on the agenda for next month.” Puck shrugs. “Which is good, I think. Tina seemed to think so,” he adds with a grin. “And she’s apparently been mainlining information about this stuff, so.”

Sam laughs. “Awesome. I’ll make sure now that I have the night off.”

Finn stalks into class and flings himself into his seat, kicking his backpack underneath his desk. Sam turns to look at him, then back to Puck, raising his eyebrows. “Uh. Good morning, Finn?” Sam tries. 

“Sam,” Finn answers, with a little nod of his head. 

“You okay, dude?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Finn asks, glancing over at Puck. “Apparently I’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Right. Well. Your backpack might like some reassurance?” Sam quips, then turns back towards the front as Brittany walks in. “Morning, Britt.”

“Good morning!” Brittany chirps. “We’re all famous today!”

“Don’t tell grumpy Gus.”

Finn scowls at Puck, but Brittany just says, “Oh, I’ll look out for Gus.”

Sam snorts, and Puck decides that that moment is an excellent one to pull out a pencil or a pen or something. 

“Good morning, class!” Mrs. Vey calls. “Did any of you happen to watch the news last night or this morning?”

There are a lot of blank faces, but Brittany raises her hand excitedly. “I saw Santana! She looked awesome.”

“For those of you who didn’t watch the news, there were a number of McKinley students at the school board meeting last night, including three of your classmates in this room. It’s exciting to see young people getting involved.”

“Why were you there?” one of the guys at the front snorts. Puck’s pretty sure it’s the same guy who made the snotty remark about the ‘left’ ballot.

“Passing a policy against asking too many questions,” Finn snaps. Puck rolls his eyes. 

“Huh?”

“We want all the students to be treated the same, so when there’s bullying, it can be stopped,” Brittany explains. 

“Huh. Okay?” The guy shrugs and returns to looking uninterested in the discussion, the class, and possibly, Puck thinks, life in general. 

“I’m sure you’ll hear more about it before next month’s school board meeting,” Mrs. Vey says with a smile. “And speaking of social changes, it’s back to the Victorian era for us.”

When class is over, Finn continues to glower as he packs up his books, but he does at least pause to offer Sam a fist bump, and then tentatively holds his fist out to Puck. Puck raises his eyebrows as he brings his fist up to meet Finn’s. Finn quirks a weak smile before he gathers his backpack and exits the classroom. 

“What was _that_ about?” Sam asks as he and Puck exit the room. 

“Scrambled eggs.”

Sam makes a show of looking around him. “I’m sorry, I would have sworn I was talking to Puck, not Brittany.”

Puck cracks a grin. “Yeah, well. Later.”

Mrs. Strandberg is tense. Her lips are pursed and she scowls especially fiercely at Kurt before her gaze slides to Puck. There are still two minutes before the bell, so Puck leans over to Kurt. “Figures she’d be the type to watch the evening news without fail.”

Kurt snorts his agreement, nodding, and then Mrs. Strandberg opens up a piece of printer paper. “Today I am going to a read a paragraph written by a man in our community whom I admire greatly, Mr. Pophal. I hope you will all _think deeply_ about its meaning.” She pauses dramatically before beginning. “‘One of the oddest jobs I’ve ever done was to salt animal hides. It was gross, slimy, and stinky. The worst part was when you slipped and went face first into wet hide! To properly salt a sheep hide you have to stretch and smooth it out and then rub fresh, pure, and dry salt into the entire hide. Sounds easy enough but sheep hides like to stick together, roll up, and not cooperate. The important part is that you get every last spot, every corner, and every nook and cranny with enough salt so that it will be preserved; otherwise it will rot. If you salt the entire sheep hide and miss one spot in the middle that spot will rot a hole in the hide. It will cause the rest of the hide to stink and become less valuable’. Think about that, children. Missing _one spot_ can ruin the entire hide.” She sighs. “Now. To physics.”

The rest of the class is just as uncomfortable, and Kurt and Puck both bolt for the door as soon as the bell rings, carrying their notebooks and pens instead of putting them in their bags. Puck looks around almost suspiciously in English, like Mrs. Strandberg might pop out and read a story about animal hides again. 

“Did you get a chance to see the televised piece, Noah?” Rachel asks as they walk towards the choir room. 

“Nah.” Puck shakes his head. “Watched a movie last night and slept in this morning.”

“It was quite well done, Ms. Dean was obviously sympathetic to our position. Do you know if Kurt and Finn watched it?”

Puck stares at her for a second. “I just told you, watched a movie and slept in.”

“Oh!” Rachel flushes for a second. “I’m sorry. Yes. I haven’t seen either of them this morning.”

“Finn’s, uh. How to put it.”

“Oh dear. Well. I’ll be interested to see more performances about nostalgia. Do you know if we’re resuming our Friday afternoon rehearsals today?”

“I’m guessing no,” Puck answers as they reach the choir room, and he scans the room quickly. Mercedes sitting beside Quinn, back row. Check. Sam, Artie, Mike, Tina on the end. Check. Rachel crosses to sit beside Tina, and behind her are Brittany and Santana. Kurt’s on the other side of Rachel, now, and Puck sits down next to him. Finn, for his part, looks less pissy than earlier, and more worried. Despite the fact that he’s not pulled his chair over to the jazz band or anything, he still manages to make his normal spot seem a little distant. Puck shrugs minutely and catches Kurt’s eye. Kurt just shrugs as well. 

“Good morning!” Schue sounds upbeat, incredibly upbeat. “I have to say, Tina, fantastic job getting everyone organized last night. Those of you that weren’t there, you missed an impressive sight.” He smiles brightly at Tina, who returns the smile. “So! Who’s up first today?”

“I’ll go,” Mike volunteers. “Thanks to my Secret Santa gift,” he starts with a laugh, “I have the perfect song.”

_Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road  
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go  
So make the best of this test, and don't ask why  
It's not a question, but a lesson learned in time_

_It's something unpredictable, but in the end it's right.  
I hope you had the time of your life._

“Oh, great choice,” Schue applauds. “Great song. Next?”

“You know, you could start using plastic numbers,” Puck jokes as he stands up. 

“That guy was so strange!” Tina agrees. 

“Great, well, I’ll consider it,” Schue laughs. “What do you have for us, Puck?”

“Billy Joel.”

“Ah, all right.”

_This is the time to remember  
Cause it will not last forever  
These are the days  
To hold on to  
Cause we won't  
Although we'll want to  
This is the time  
But time is gonna change  
You've given me the best of you  
And now I need the rest of you_

_Did you know that before you came into my life  
It was some kind of miracle that I survived  
Some day we will both look back  
And have to laugh  
We lived through a lifetime  
And the aftermath_

“Fantastic song,” Schue compliments at the end. “All right, two more?”

Sam stands and launches into ‘Do You Remember’.

_You were lazy about it  
You made me wait around  
I was so crazy about you  
I didn't mind  
So I was late for class  
I locked my bike to yours  
It wasn't hard to find  
You painted flowers on  
Guess that I was afraid  
That if you rode away  
You might not roll back  
My direction real soon  
Well I was crazy about you then  
And now the craziest thing of all  
Over 10 years have gone by  
And you're still mine  
We're locked in time  
Let's rewind_

“A song I’m not as familiar with, but a good choice,” Schue declares, and then Rachel stands, declaring her intention to do Tori Amos. 

_I hear a voice  
"You must learn to stand up for yourself  
Cause I can't always be around"  
He says  
When you gonna make up your mind  
When you gonna love you as much as I do  
When you gonna make up your mind  
Cause things are gonna change so fast  
All the white horses are still in bed  
I tell you that I'll always want you near  
You say that things change my dear_

“Great job, Rachel, and everyone that’s performed so far. We’ll wrap up nostalgia next week and I’ll be thinking of something interesting for the second half of the week. Have a great weekend, guys! See you Monday!”

Puck sighs and stands up. “Lunch?”

“Some of that asparagus?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Finn gives them a long look as he exits that Puck can’t quite decipher, then heads out the door without speaking to anyone. Puck shrugs and Kurt sighs. 

“Still upset?” Mike asks unnecessarily. 

Kurt just nods. “Still.”

 

Even though he didn’t have class on Wednesday, either, it’s not until they’re cleaning up after lunch that it hits Puck that there’s no dual enrollment. “Oh, whatever shall we do this afternoon?” he says slowly. 

“Forgot, did you?”

“Yeah,” he admits, drying off his hands and then grabbing Kurt around the waist. “Nice surprise to remember, though.”

“Mmmhmm.” Kurt winds his arms around Puck’s neck. “What shall we do, indeed.”

“There is an nice empty apartment around us.”

“Oh? Tell me about that?” Kurt grins, pressing his lips to Puck’s. 

“Hmm. Well, there’s a bed, too. And we could get rid of these pesky clothes.”

“Pesky?”

“I know, I know. I appreciate them while we’re in public. But we’re not, so they’re pesky.”

“Point.” 

Puck grins and keeps walking them slowly towards his bedroom. “I thought you’d see things my way.” He runs a hand down Kurt’s chest. “This has been my lucky week.”

“I thought you might feel that way.”

“’Course, I was the one that made sure it would be,” Puck continues, carefully removing the scarf around Kurt’s neck. “I should probably let you be unmarked next week. Heard it’s going to be a real heat wave.” He slides his hands under Kurt’s sweater and undershirt, grin widening. 

“A whole fifty-five degrees,” Kurt agrees, deadpan. “Break out the shorts and the iced tea.”

“Exactly!” Puck pushes Kurt’s sweater up over his head, then repeats the motion with Kurt’s undershirt. “See, don’t you feel warmer already?”

“You should warm me up.”

“Yes, you’re right. I should.” Puck slides his hands down Kurt’s back. “I should take these pants off of you first, though.”

“Excellent idea.” Kurt kisses Puck deeply. “We have many good ideas.”

“Mmm. Yes.” Puck slides off the rest of Kurt’s clothes, then removes his own, pulling Kurt onto the bed. “What do you want, blue eyes?”

“Other than going home, I have everything I want right here.”

“Yeah.” Puck presses his lips to each of Kurt’s nipples. “I know.”

“Fuck me, baby?” Kurt whispers, his chest arching up. “I want to feel you inside me.”

“Yeah.” Puck runs his finger teasingly over Kurt’s entrance. “Always, blue eyes.”

Kurt whimpers and presses back against Puck’s finger, and Puck grins, leaning forward to grab the lube and slick up his fingers. Kurt sighs as Puck’s finger slides inside, and Puck twitches his fingertip slightly, making Kurt shudder. “Please.”

“Patience, K.” Puck pushes a second finger inside and grins as Kurt tightens around him. “So tight. You’re keeping me warm right now.”

Kurt giggles. “Mmmhmm. I am.”

Puck moves his fingers again. “Yeah, fuck, ready blue eyes?”

“Yesss.” Puck grins at Kurt’s answer and pulls out his fingers, coating his cock and pressing slowly into Kurt. “Yes, just like that.”

“Just like this?” Puck stops once he’s all the way inside. “Or do you want me to move, K?”

“Move, baby.”

“If you insist.” Puck starts to slowly thrust in and out of Kurt, feeling Kurt tighten around him and listening to his small sounds of approval. Kurt’s lips are parted slightly, head tilted back against the mattress, and his hands are grasping ineffectually at the cover. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

Kurt doesn’t respond verbally, just pushes into Puck’s thrusts, and Puck puts his hand around Kurt’s cock. He moves his hand over it in rhythm with his thrusts, and Kurt starts to hum, his body stiffening before he comes with a yell. Puck slams into him again, then a second and third time before coming as well, and he collapses on top of Kurt, spent. 

“I’m warm now,” Kurt says after a few moments, and Puck chuckles. 

“Me too.”

 

They decide—or, well, Kurt suggests, and Puck agrees—it might be easier to be at Kurt’s already when Finn arrives, so they can gauge his mood, and they head over before school’s out, commandeering the Xbox so Kurt can hand Puck his ass in Motorsport 4. 

The front door opens and Finn comes in, more quietly than normal for Finn, which is still louder than an average person. Puck looks over at Kurt, who purses his lips slightly, head tilted and listening. The game is pretty loud, so Puck thinks Finn is likely aware they are there. 

Finn comes in and stands by the sofa, watching them play. Puck starts to lose track of how long Finn’s there, just standing. Kurt presses his lips together, probably remembering that saying good morning wasn’t welcomed, and doesn’t say a word. Eventually, Finn sits on the sofa, still silent, just watching Kurt kick Puck’s ass on the screen.

Thirty minutes, at least, pass, without anyone saying a thing. At the end of a round, Kurt looks over at Puck. “Want to switch games?”

“Either way.” Puck shrugs. “Or we can head upstairs.”

“A few more rounds?”

“Sure.” Puck can’t decide if the atmosphere is tense or awkward or just strange; they’re sitting like they normally do when they play, shoulders touching and Kurt’s leg slung over Puck’s. But their conversation at breakfast was normal, too, and that set Finn off, so Puck can’t help but wonder if he’s going to start again. 

After Kurt wins two more times, he flips the Xbox off and stands, and Puck does the same, following Kurt out of the room and up the stairs. He can practically feel Finn watching them, and Kurt raises his eyebrows and shrugs as soon as they’re on the stairs. 

When they make their way back down the stairs for dinner, Finn is still sitting there, staring off vaguely at one of the walls. Puck shrugs and they walk into the kitchen, where Carole and Burt are putting food on the table. 

“You boys want to get the table set?” Burt asks. 

“Sure, Dad,” Kurt answers, nodding and then grabbing plates from the cabinet and handing them to Puck. 

Puck nods and puts out the plates, taking the utensils after that. 

“Grab the salad dressing, would you, Kurt?” Carole asks, turning from the stove, and Kurt nods, stepping back to the refrigerator. “I’ll go tell Finn it’s time to eat. Was he in his room?”

“He’s in the living room.”

“Oh, okay.” Carole leaves the room briefly before reentering, Finn following her, looking pensive. “Everything’s ready, so let’s sit down!” 

Everybody sits, and Finn looks briefly thrilled when he notices the baked apples on the table. “Everything looks great, honey,” Burt says. “That pot roast smells delicious.”

“Thank you, honey.” Carole beams at Burt. “How was everyone’s day? Finn?”

Finn shrugs one shoulder, stabbing at the ridiculously large serving of apples he’s just scooped onto his plate. “Fine.”

Carole looks a little startled by his terse response. “Just fine?”

“Yes.” Finn shoves most of an apple half into his mouth and chews very slowly and pointedly. 

“So, Danny says he saw us all on the news,” Burt says, after shaking his head at Finn. “He says the piece was great, real positive spin on it.”

“That’s what I heard as well,” Kurt responds, looking at Burt and rather pointedly not looking at Finn. “It’s a good thing, the initial exposure slanted towards us versus being neutral.”

“Great! That’s good news,” Burt says. “Hopefully it’ll give the board a kick in the pants to make the right decision next month. I’m feeling pretty positive about the whole thing.”

“Did the Berrys have anything interesting to add last night?”

“Hiram was saying something about community mobilization. Long and short of it seems to be that next month, we’re gonna have a _lot_ more people out there,” Burt says. 

“That, I assumed,” Kurt nods. He exchanges a glance with Puck and starts to say something, then stops himself, looking very briefly at Finn before stabbing a piece of pot roast and chewing it.

“Maybe everything’ll go smoothly,” Burt muses. 

“That would be nice,” Kurt agrees.

“It really would!” Carole says. “I could tell that one man seemed sort of hostile, but the others appeared to be looking at the issue with an open mind.”

Finn makes a little noise, somewhere between a snort and a grumble, but doesn’t offer any additional commentary. 

“What was that, sweetie?” Carole addresses Finn.

“Nothing.”

“Apparently it would be better not to try to change things,” Kurt says too sweetly. “That way no one gets upset.”

“I’m gonna excuse myself,” Finn says, pushing back from the table.

“No, you’re not,” Burt says. “Sit down.” Carole nods her agreement without speaking. 

Finn slides back and and resumes eating without looking up from his plate or saying anything else. Carole opens her mouth, then closes it, frowning. 

“What’s your problem, exactly?” Burt asks, addressing Finn.

“No problem, apparently,” Finn answers, slowing loading his fork with a combination of various foods on his plate. 

“Do we need to have a family meeting?” Carole looks thoughtful. 

“Nope,” Finn says, with an emphasis on the ‘p’ sound. He shoves the loaded fork into his mouth and gives Carole a large, tight–lipped fake smile. 

“Those require all of us to speak civilly,” Kurt notes. “So I suppose that’s why Finn’s not particularly interested. They also require responses that aren’t monosyllabic.”

Finn swallows his bite. “Yeah, well, not a surprise that I’m not smart. Monosyllabic’s good as you get.”

“Funny, you didn’t have a problem calling us ‘obnoxious’ this morning!”

“One of those Rain Man things, probably. Won’t happen again. I’ll stick to small words like I’m supposed to.”

“Silly me, poor persecuted Finn! I forgot that was the script today.”

The look of mulish righteousness on Finn’s face slips momentarily. “No. That’s not the script at all.”

Kurt raises his eyebrow. “You could have fooled me. I feel like I’m in some overwrought melodrama!”

“I feel like I’m in the beginning part of one of those articles I get emailed to me all the time since we joined PFLAG!” Finn says. “The part before the horrible sh— stuff happens!”

“The only horrible stuff that’s going to happen is my avoiding you, but maybe that’s what you want!”

“What? _No!_ ” Finn looks honestly confused. “You’re the one who doesn’t want me around _you_ , because I might accidentally, I dunno, try to _protect_ you.”

“I don’t need protecting!”

“Yet!”

“At all!”

“Like you didn’t last year?” Finn says, setting his fork down aggressively. 

“Oh, _fuck_ you!” Kurt explodes, standing up and throwing his pop into Finn’s face. “If we’re going to rehash last year, let’s talk about how you were too busy trying to be _popular_ and _touch boobs_.”

Finn wipes the pop out of his eyes with the backs of his hands, then blinks at Kurt a few times, like he’s either trying to process what Kurt said or like the pop in his eyes really stings. Finn’s eyes water, and Puck can tell that Finn would blame it all on the pop. “I know,” he says softly. “I know.” He pushes his chair out from the table and looks at Burt and Carole. “I’m…” He gestures upstairs. 

Burt nods, his lips pressed into a small frown. Finn stands up and silently walks upstairs, not looking back. A few moments later, Puck can hear the shower start. The four of them left continue eating in dead silence, Kurt sitting back down and trembling a little before picking up his fork. 

They put their dishes away in silence, too, and Kurt walks over to Burt briefly, whispering something, before grabbing Puck’s hand and pulling him upstairs. When they get to the bedroom, he closes the door behind them and then collapses onto the bed. “AGH.”

Puck sits down beside him, one hand on his shoulders. “Yeah.”

 

Kurt and Puck walk into the center after lunch, following the sound of April’s voice to the kitchen. “Yo, April,” Puck calls to her from the doorway. “You _cooking_?”

“Do you hear smoke alarms?”

“Hmm. Thankfully, no.”

“Then I’m not.” She grins and bounces over to them. “What’s up, buttercup?”

“Interested in going dancing?” Kurt asks her with a raised eyebrow.

“Hmm. What’s the catch?”

“Good girl,” Kurt praises her. “You have to dance with my brother, and wear a vintage dress that _I_ help you pick out.”

“Prom?”

“Yep,” Puck nods. “Oh, and you have to be willing to be tossed in the air.”

“Not gratuitous tossing,” Kurt clarifies. “He’s taken some classes. Though I don’t know if he or Rachel kept the classes in the split.”

“No expectations of excitement afterwards, right?” April asks.

“Didn’t think you’d switch teams even for great dancing,” Puck reassures her.

“Or, well. Fun dancing.”

April looks thoughtful for about three seconds before shrugging and grinning. “Sure! I’m in.” She starts walking down the hall towards the main room. “Your friends are already here, by the way.”

“Two of ’em, or three?”

“Just two.”

“That’s something,” Kurt says quietly. “Since we have to go to Brown’s house later.”

“Yeah?”

“PFLAG movie night, he volunteered to host.”

“Ohh. What are you watching?”

“ _RENT_ and _Milk_.”

“You should do _Boys Don’t Cry_ for the next one.”

“I think we already have a list,” Kurt notes, “but we’ll add it.”

When they walk into the room, Casey calls out, “Hey! Puck and Kurt! Hi!” 

“Hey, Casey,” Puck greets him. “Karofsky.”

“Hello.” Kurt smiles at both of them. “Looking forward to tonight?”

“I can’t wait! It’s gonna be so _great_!” Casey’s bouncing in his seat as he talks, Karofsky looking amused. “I haven’t really watched a lot of. Um. Gay movies. Ever.”

“Not _any_ kind of gay movie?” April asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Casey blushes bright pink and shakes his head rapidly. “Um. Not those either!” Karofsky just looks uncomfortable, which does seem to sometimes be his default setting.

“Too bad!” April grins. “I saw you guys on the news!”

“We watched it, too! I mean, we were _there_ , but then we watched it on the news, too. It was great, they were all so great!” Casey says. “All the speeches were wonderful.”

“It’s all very smooth sailing so far,” Kurt nods. “I cynically doubt it will last, but at least the beginning is easy.”

“I asked around to see if we had the same kind of policy as you guys,” April says, “but we don’t, which is good.”

“We talked about importing some support for the next meeting,” Puck interjects. “You think some of the others would drive up?”

“Did you ask the other kids from the center?” Casey asks. 

“That’s what we were thinking, yes,” Kurt nods. “I realize not everyone could make it on a school night, but even a few more bodies would help. If we have any opposition, I am sure they’ll do something similar.”

“Wow, that would be really awesome,” Casey says. “Do you think there’s, um. Really gonna be a lot of opposition?” 

Puck looks at Kurt, and they both look quickly at Karofsky, who shrugs slightly. How honest should they be? “Probably at least a little,” Puck answers after a few beats pass. “Since we were on the news, people know about it.”

Casey makes a weird face. “What kind of people, do you think? Angry mobs?”

“Praying mobs with Bibles to thump!” April suggests. “Right? Don’t you have angry Bible people in Lima?”

Casey’s eyes widen. “Well, I guess Bibles are better than, I dunno, pitchforks?”

“Pitchforks?” Puck repeats, confused, and Kurt doesn’t look any less confused than him. 

“Case watches those low–budget movies they play overnight on television. You know, with the strings and pricetags on the props.”

“They’re just so _great_ ,” Casey agrees, bouncing in his seat. “And the mobs, they _always_ have pitchforks. It’s a monster movie rule, I think. It’s in the bylaws.”

“Luckily, we aren’t facing monsters. Just misguided, hateful humans.” Kurt shrugs. “April’s right, it will most likely be some of the very conservative, fundamentalist Christians. They also think Jesus rode on a dinosaur.”

“I think I saw that movie,” Casey says, nodding.

“That’s even more terrifying, somehow,” Puck says, shaking his head. “Was it a T-Rex?”

“Velociraptor, I think,” Casey says. “Also, the one where Jesus kills vampires.”

“We miss all the good shows, K. Next time we can’t sleep, we should try this.”

“I can’t decide if I should anticipate or dread.”

“It’s a musical,” Casey adds. 

Kurt raises an eyebrow. “ _That_ is definitely a tick in the anticipate column. Or maybe dread, too.”

“Knowing those movies, maybe dread,” April says thoughtfully. “On the other hand, maybe one would be good for Nationals!”

“Yeah, we already got that set,” Puck grins. “We knew we were going to beat you.”

“Your costumes alone beat us,” April sighs cheerfully. 

“They belonged in one of Casey’s movies,” Kurt informs Karofsky and Casey. “Sailor dresses and sailor suits.”

“That sounds terrifying,” Casey says. 

“It was,” Puck says with a grin. “You should have seen the look on Kurt’s face.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I wasn’t the only one thinking it.”

 

By the time they arrive at Brown’s for the PFLAG movie night, there are at least a half-dozen cars in front of the house and in the driveway, including Finn’s. The door has a sign on it inviting them to come in without ringing the bell, and to walk straight down the hall. The directions are sort of unnecessary once they’re inside; it’s more like follow the noise. 

Brown is moving around the crowd, scanning everyone for green and talking about how disappointed “his people, the Irish,” would be in those who don’t wear green for St. Patrick’s Day. Puck spares an appreciative thought that Carole trained him early to remember to wear green. 

“But do you eat corned beef and whatever? With that Irish bread?” Karofsky is asking Brown. 

“It’s called soda bread, fool, and the Irish eat all kinds of normal stuff too,” Brown answers, shaking his head. “I swear, Sheepdog. No sense at all sometimes.”

Casey stands next to Karofsky, giggling up a storm, and Brown occasionally leans over and pinches him, which just sets him off into even louder giggles. 

“We’re here!” Tina trills from the doorway, waving a copy of _RENT_. “With the movie, as requested!”

“Who’s bringing the other one?” Mike asks from behind her. “ _Juice_ , right?”

Tina groans. “I told you three hours ago that wasn’t funny anymore.”

“I have it,” Kurt answers. “We should flip a coin to see what we’re watching first.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Brown agrees. “Anybody got a coin?”

Taylor pulls a coin out of his pocket and throws it at Brown, careful not to get within pinching radius despite the green Cons on his feet. “Cool shirt,” Taylor nods at Kurt.

“Thank you.” Kurt smiles slightly. “I thought it doubly appropriate today.”

“Alright!” Brown declares. “Somebody call it!”

“Heads!” Rachel shouts from somewhere behind Brown. “Heads for _RENT_!”

Brown flips the coin, catches it, and smacks it down on the back of his hand with a flourish. “ _RENT_ for the lady!” 

“Yay!” Tina’s the first to respond. “Let’s get started!”

“Where’s the popcorn you promised, Brown?” Karofsky grumbles good–naturedly as they get herded onto sofas, chairs, and large pillows in front of a huge television screen. 

“I’m getting it. Hold your titties,” Brown says. “Sheepdog, you sit there with Cherry,” he adds, pointing at the sofa. “Foots, I want at _least_ six inches between you and my sister at all times, you got it?”

“Shut up, Miles,” Alicia says, rolling her eyes. “Why do you people _listen_ to what he says?”

“He won’t shut up otherwise,” Karofsky answers. “Also, today? He keeps pinching.”

“Miles has good ideas,” Casey says, nodding his head a little too excitedly. “This was a great idea!”

For their part, Puck and Kurt appropriate one of the larger pillows near the back of the room, leaning against a strategically–placed bookcase. Tina cuddles close to Mike, close to the screen, oohing over the speakers, and it takes a few minutes before all of them are seated and Brown actually hits play. 

“What is this about, exactly?” Rick asks, from his spot of significantly less than six inches from Alicia. 

“It’s adapted from an opera, _La Boheme_ —” Rachel begins, only to have Tina interrupt her. 

“The Lower East Side of Manhattan, in the late ’80s.”

“Love, beauty, truth,” Kurt deadpans. “No, that’s _Moulin Rogue_. Bohemia. AIDS.”

“Sounds, uh…” Rick says, then shrugs. “Alright.”

They aren’t far into the movie when one of the underclassmen speaks up. “Hey, the glee club did this song!”

“Yes, we did,” Tina confirms. “It was so much fun!”

There isn’t much comprehensible reaction for awhile – a few murmurs, people singing along, and some laughter at parts. When the movie finally gets to “Without You,” there’s a loud, insistent sniffling noise coming from the corner of the sofa where Casey is sandwiched between Karofsky and Brown. The sniffle gives way to a quavery, “Oh, _Mimi_!” Puck looks over at them to see tears rolling down Casey’s face and Karofsky awkwardly patting Casey’s shoulder. Casey has a death grip on Karofsky’s shirt sleeve, his fingers twined in the fabric.

When the film ends, with Mimi dramatically being all _not_ dead, Puck looks over at Casey again, and now he’s beaming through a teary face, and Karofsky is still sort of absently patting him. 

Tina sighs happily as the credits play. “I love that show. I wish I could have seen it before it closed, but at least the film has a lot of the original cast!”

“Time for _Water_?” Mike offers, and Tina half-heartedly slaps him. 

“That was cool,” Finn says quietly, from the back of the room. “We should have done some more of those songs this year.”

“I’m not sure what a judge would make of ‘Over the Moon’,” Tina laughs. 

“Speaking of cows,” Brown says. “ _Milk_ now.”

“I haven’t seen this one,” Tina says, and there’s a general murmur of agreement. “Has anyone? Except for Kurt, I mean?”

No one indicates that they have, and Puck doesn’t bother saying anything, because he doesn’t want to be pelted with questions about it. 

“I bet it’s awesome, too, though,” Casey says, bouncing in place on the sofa, next to a moderately pleased–looking Karofsky. “ _RENT_ was sooo good.”

“I wonder how historically accurate it is,” Rachel muses, and then the opening credits begin, and Puck feels a little shiver go down his spine. They’re going to be in for a shock if they wanted something uplifting. 

“Did that really happen?” Rick asks, his voice low. 

“Yes.” It’s Santana that answers, speaking up for the first time that evening. “That’s pre-Stonewall.”

“Damn,” Rick says. “Just, damn.”

The room is quiet as the movie begins, the lightheartedness of the opening scenes an uneasy contrast to the credits. They aren’t far into the movie when Puck watches Kurt grab a notebook from his bag and start scribbling down something, periodically pausing to watch the screen or listen. 

Harvey Milk has just met Cleve Jones when Kurt grins and squeals a little, flipping to a new page and writing something shorter before going back to the first page. “Cleve!” he whispers a few minutes later. “Cleve Jones!”

A few heads turn and look at Kurt questioningly, but he just waves his hand and goes back to writing. When Cleve and Harvey get reacquainted, Kurt stands up and beckons to Puck, heading towards the kitchen attached to the room they’re in. “Here,” he says quietly, pushing the notebook towards Puck. 

Puck blinks, then starts reading, nodding after the first couple of lines and grabbing the pencil out of Kurt’s hand to start making a few notes of his own. “What’s on the other page?” Puck asks quietly, halfway through the lyrics. 

“Cleve Jones, he could be a countertenor. No one writes for countertenors much, but it would work.”

“Hmm.” Puck nods and scribbles down a few other ideas. “Yeah, I can see that working. Baritone for Harvey, tenor for both of the lovers? Or… hmm. Tenor for Harvey, baritone for his second lover?”

“The latter, I think,” Kurt nods. “Dan White, baritone.”

Puck goes back to writing, the two of them switching the pencil back and forth, when there’s a soft cough from the kitchen doorway. They look up simultaneously to see Finn standing there, looking tentative and a little strained. 

“Hey,” Finn says, quietly.

“Hi,” Kurt answers for both of them, equally quiet. 

“Writing?”

“Just a thought,” Kurt nods. “May not turn into anything.”

“I’ll, uh, let you get back to it, I guess,” Finn says. “I just…”

“Yes?” Kurt’s voice is light. 

Finn shifts from foot to foot, obviously trying to find the right words. “Kurt, I don’t— I’m not even sure what— just, you guys, you know? That stuff in the movie. The stuff you said during the meeting, they hate it when y— when they band together. And, _you guys_.” Finn rubs the back of his head with one hand, looking like he just wishes somebody could read his mind, because what he’s saying isn’t what he’s trying to get out. 

“I’m not fragile, Finn,” Kurt says slowly. “And I refuse to go through my life afraid. I’ve done that before. I won’t do it again.”

“I know you’re not fragile, ok? You’re, like, the strongest guys I know,” Finn says. “ _I’m_ afraid, though, ok? I just, I didn’t realize how it was, how it could be out there. If something happened to you, I—” He cuts himself off suddenly and shakes his head. “You were right. Everything you said to me last night. All of it.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Kurt raises an eyebrow. “As we mentioned before – too ornery to disappear the way they’d like. I’m not being cavalier, Finn. Sometimes I feel like a walking ad for a self-defense class and _The Gift of Fear_. But I’m not going to let it impact me any further.”

Finn’s face scrunches up in that way it does when he’s trying to think something through, but it doesn’t seem to help. “I don’t even know why I acted like that, Kurt. I swear, I just don’t even know. This just really has me freaked out, _so much_ , and I don’t even know all the reasons _why_!”

“Then worry about what you can change. Following us around—following yourself around, even, since you spoke in the meeting—isn’t going to necessarily change anything.”

“I don’t know if I can change anything. All I can think about is how if anything happens to either of you, and I could have done something to stop it—” Finn looks panicky thinking about it, his eyes a little wild. 

“And how would _we_ feel, if you got hurt because of us?”

“I don’t know. You don’t seem scared at all, but I think about the stuff in the movie in there, and the stuff you said might happen, and all I can think is that, you’re mine – my brothers, I mean. You’re my brothers and I don’t know what else to do but be an asshole, I guess.”

Kurt snorts in amusement at the last. “They prey on the fear, Finn. And fear can paralyze you if you give into it. I’ve _been_ there. I’m not going back there. I’ll buy a gun and shoot them first.”

Finn’s eyes widen. “That doesn’t make me less scared.”

“I didn’t say I was _going_ to. But if it were me or them, or Puck or them, or you or them? God, Finn.” Kurt straightens. “It’s not, you know, likely or probable or whatever. Ask Puck, he’s the one that took statistics and probability and actually understood it. But I want you to understand, I’m not disregarding the potential for danger. I just deal with it differently.”

Finn nods his head slowly. “Ok. Ok. I’m sorry I made you think I think you’re fragile or something. I don’t. Especially, uh, not right at the moment. I just started thinking about what–ifs.” Finn sighs, loudly, that strange look that’s crossed his face more than a few times lately making a brief appearance. “I suck with what–ifs.”

"The what–ifs are always there. There doesn't have to be a precipitating event. If someone tells me I need a demon exorcised, I'd rather it be because I'm doing something. Not just breathing."

“Wait, what? There’s demons now?”

“The religious nuts. Some of them think we’re gay because we’re possessed by demons. Strangely, they’ve never managed to successfully and permanently exorcise one of those gay demons.”

The panicky look is back on Finn’s face. “They’re gonna try to _exorcise_ you? Dude, does your _dad_ know about this?”

“No, Finn, no one’s going to exorcise me. If they really want to waste their breath trying to ‘pray the gay away’, that’s their problem.”

“What if they _try_? I’ve _seen_ ‘Supernatural’, Kurt! That stuff looks awful! The might throw holy water on your or… or… I dunno. Speak in _Latin_!”

“Thankfully, those types don’t even read _Harry Potter_ ,” Kurt deadpans. “Seriously, I have to laugh at them. They’re so _stupid_ and _scared_. I almost feel sorry for them – but not quite.”

“Stupider and scareder than me?” Finn asks, raising his eyebrows. 

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Stupider and scareder than anyone can even imagine.”

“My imagination’s pretty good, you know.”

Kurt laughs for a second. “If we encounter any of them, I’ll point them out, and you can decide if you imagined it or not.”

Finn looks like he’s contemplating whether or not that’s a valid option. “Ok. That sounds like a plan,” he says, then he ducks his head a little. “I’m really sorry about last night. And yesterday morning. And the night before that. Probably some other times, too, but the list’s already getting pretty long, so.”

“As long as you don’t hold the pop in your eyes against me,” Kurt grins. 

Finn shrugs. “I guess I might have thrown a pop at me, too.”

“Dad and Carole would probably frown on us throwing pop on ourselves as a form of self-flagellation, at least on a regular basis.”

“Yeah, probably so,” Finn agrees. “I’m gonna go back in and watch the rest of the movie and try not to freak out, ok?”

“You do know how it ends, right?” Kurt raises an eyebrow. “I mean, this is not exactly an…”

“Uplifting story?” Puck supplies, speaking up now that the danger is past. 

Finn nods. “The guy gets shot by the Twinkie dude.”

“Close enough,” Kurt sighs, and Puck shrugs. 

“There’s a moral there, but I’m pretty sure it’s not ‘don’t eat Twinkies’,” Puck remarks.

“I think it’s ‘don’t shoot people’,” Finn says. “Or maybe it’s something about San Francisco. I’m not totally sure about that part.”

“Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair. We’ll be back in there in a few minutes. Just…” Kurt gestures to the notebook sitting between them. “Have to get these things out.”

Finn nods and turns to go, then turns back towards the table and grabs first Kurt and then Puck in a quick hug, before disappearing back into the living room. 

Puck grabs the pencil back from Kurt and writes out a few more notes, and they go back and forth a little more before Kurt closes the notebook, both of them satisfied for the moment, and they wander back to the movie. Aside from Finn, no one seems to have noticed them disappearing, and they sit quietly, watching Harvey navigate actually being an elected official after years of being a candidate. 

Puck doesn’t think about what happens to Jack, Harvey’s lover after Scott, until they reach that scene. When Harvey finds Jack, cutting him down and holding him, there’s a loud, broken sob from the sofa. He and Kurt turn to look, and he notices everyone else doing the same. Casey is crumpled against Karofsky, sobbing into his chest, and Karofsky looks absolutely terrified. Puck looks back at Kurt. “Oh, _shit_ ,” Puck whispers. “I totally forgot…”

“Me, too,” Kurt murmurs quietly. “It’s just not— not what I think of—”

Brown, on Casey’s other side, looks completely freaked out. His mouth is moving and he seems to also be saying, “Oh, shit” repeatedly, looking from Casey’s shaking shoulder and up at Karofsky’s pale face. Finally, Brown says, “Shep, you want some help getting him out of here?”

Karofsky just nods shakily, and after a moment, he hauls himself to his feet, Brown pushing Casey up with him and then propelling the both of them towards the front door, the movie still playing. 

Brown comes back in after four or five minutes, settling back onto the couch without saying a word. Brown looks a bit like shit, himself, and next to him, Rick is wide-eyed and clinging to Alicia’s hand. 

Puck swivels his head, echoing Kurt’s movement, looking behind them at Finn. Finn looks a little teary-eyed, and when he notices Puck looking at him, he shakes his head a little and wipes at his eyes. 

Everyone is quiet until the moment the camera pulls away, switching to the actual footage of the candlelight march. “Ohh, that’s the real night, isn’t it?” Tina says quietly. 

“Thirty thousand. Out of six to seven hundred thousand in the city,” Kurt comments. “That’s… I don’t know. Someone else do the math.”

“Five percent-ish. Give or take,” Puck answers him after a moment of thought. 

“That’s just crazy,” Brown says, quietly. “All of that. It’s just crazy.”

“It’s also kind of beautiful,” Kurt responds, just as quiet. 

“I don’t think I liked that movie,” Brittany says. “It was sad and it broke Casey.”

“It was real, Britt,” Santana says, voice soothing despite the words. “Reality sometimes sucks.”

“Why don’t we know this stuff?” Finn asks, in the spaced-out tone of voice he gets when something’s really shaken him up. “Why don’t they teach us about that in school?”

“One state mandates the teaching of LGBTQ history,” Kurt answers, loud enough for the entire room to hear the answer. “California. One state honors Harvey Milk with a state holiday of sorts. Also California. There are no children’s books about Harvey Milk or Stonewall or other LGBTQ issues. Why? Some of it is the same reason that the bullying policy is the way it is. History is seen as ‘promoting’ a ‘gay lifestyle’.” 

“That is messed up,” Brown announces, with emotional hand gestures. “Seriously. No wonder the world’s full of people who act like they act, if they don’t know anything about it.”

“Some schools have LGBTQ studies as a social science elective,” Kurt points out with a shrug. “Lots of colleges and universities do. It does seem like it would make more impact if we heard about it in middle school, though.”

“A truly inclusive curricula would certainly be a big step forward towards understanding and tolerance,” Rachel states. “My Dad has an extensive list of resources that schools around the country have successfully implemented, though clearly, Lima City Schools are nowhere near ready to embrace that.”

“That’s an understatement!” Mike snorts. “I think most of our teachers would flip out if we brought this up in class.”

“I think some of our teachers would flip if they knew we brought it up anywhere,” Mandy says. 

“I have this substitute right now for science—”

“Mrs. Strandberg,” Puck and Kurt interrupt, groaning together. “She’s, yes. Nothing overt,” Kurt continues. “And yet.”

“Exactly.” Taylor nods. “That story about the animal hide was _creepy_.”

“Animal hide? What kind of crazy stuff are they teaching freshman these days?” Brown says. 

“Not just the freshmen, all her classes. Says she’s ‘raising the culture’ of the classroom,” Puck offers with a snort. “She read from one of those dumbass Chicken Soup books, too.”

“That’s just not normal,” Brown responds, shaking his head. 

“That’s Lima.”

 

Kurt waits until his dad is underneath an old Jeep, working on its brakes, before he clears his throat. “Dad?”

“Yeah, whatcha need?” 

“I wanted to ask you about, uh.” Kurt purses his lips. “Puck staying over.”

“You guys have early plans tomorrow or something?” Burt doesn’t sound particularly distressed by the idea, just somewhat distracted by his work. 

“No, not tomorrow. I just— I wondered if, well. It might be easier if we had a plan. Or a schedule. Or something.” Kurt shrugs even though Burt can’t see him at the moment. 

“Hand me those calipers, will ya?” Burt says. “And what kind of schedule are we talking here?”

Kurt picks up the calipers and hands them over while nodding. “Just – it’d be easier to plan on specific nights, I think. Ahead of time.”

“Specific nights occasionally? Or specific nights often?” Burt sounds like he might be frowning.

Kurt frowns himself, biting his bottom lip for a second. “Often?”

“He stays more than two nights in a week, he gets assigned chores,” Burt grumbles. “Got it?”

Kurt nods quickly, even though Burt still can’t see him. “Okay. Sure. More than two nights, chores.”

“And, uh. I don’t want to _hear_ anything.”

“Right.” Kurt can feel his face heat up a little. “The door?”

“If it means I won’t _hear_ anything, then fine,” Burt says. “Can we talk about something else now?”

Kurt grins to himself. “Sure. I don’t think I want to hear you and Carole either – though I guess everyone’s going to know soon what _you’ve_ been up to!”

“Yup!” Burt answers, sounding pleased with himself. “We still got it!”

“This is encouraging to me when I contemplate the future,” Kurt deadpans.

“As long as I don’t have to hear it, kid, best of luck with that.”

 

Puck waits awhile to take a break for ‘breakfast’, since he and Kurt are still supposed to meet his Nana for a late lunch as soon as he gets done with work. The result is that he's still chewing when he has to scramble to take the order from the couple that hates stepfamilies and gay marriage both. 

"Grande chai latte and a grande coffee," the woman orders, then turns back to the man with her. "I'm horrified that those children were able to get as far as the school board without being stopped. Those adults that spoke with them should be ashamed for supporting such wayward behavior."

Puck grimaces to himself as he steams the milk. 

"Pastor Phillips gave an inspired sermon this morning," the man agrees heartily. "We have an obligation to win souls to Christ and remind them of God's plan for our country. Those misguided children can still repudiate their lifestyle and turn to the Lord!"

The coffee almost splashes on Puck's hand, he jerks it so roughly at the man's words. Kurt was right—of course he was right—the religious nuts were going to be a problem. 

"I hope the youth took the message to heart, so they can gird themselves before approaching school in the morning," the woman says, sipping at her chai latte. 

"That list of Scriptures should help!" The man chuckles heartily. "There's nothing that righteous prayer can't combat, and I'm proud to be a part of the army of God. I'm sure we'll begin to see the appropriate level of resistance in the community."

"Praise God," the woman echoes. "The children of Lima will know righteousness."

Puck can't quite keep the bile from rising in the back of his throat. He knows people like this exist—he’d spent enough time reading enough over the past summer to know that they exist, to fear them—and even though he knew that they had to be in Lima, too, hidden behind rational–seeming exteriors, it still scares him a little bit. What's the line between these people and anti-abortion protesters and that "church" that protests everywhere?

"God bless you!" the man says to Puck as Puck takes their money, and Puck can't resist what he says next. 

"Leh timzoz."

"Oh, thank you!" The man beams at him as they leave, and Puck snickers to himself. The idiot just thanked Puck for telling him to go suck a cock.

 

Kurt looks slightly apprehensive when he walks into Starbucks later. “Remind me again why we’re doing this.”

Puck shrugs. “Nana’s hard to say no to.” 

“I can see where that would be true,” Kurt concedes, nodding. “Where are we meeting her?”

“Old Barn,” Puck answers, holding up his phone with a wry smile. “She texted me.”

“Very technologically proficient, that Nana.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, she is. All right, I’m gonna change, because otherwise she’ll probably complain about me smelling like coffee.”

“And then you’ll just start smelling like meat, instead,” Kurt points out wryly. “What was that thing she has to go to?”

“Some kind of knitting thing, with kvetching.” Puck shrugs. “Don’t ask me. I’m sure she does more kvetching than knitting.”

“So what you’re saying is that you actually favor your nana?” Kurt grins. 

“Hey!” Puck mock–scowls and then disappears into the bathroom because Nana really _will_ kvetch about coffee–smell. 

When they get to Old Barn, Nana’s already there waiting, and she grabs Puck and then Kurt each in a fierce hug. “So good of you to come eat with an old lady!” she crows. “I love the brunch buffet.”

“Dad was saying their eggs Benedict was actually good,” Kurt agrees. “It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Rubin.”

“Ha! Call me Nana.”

“Um. All right?” Kurt exchanges a wide-eyed glance with Puck, and Puck just shrugs. Kurt can try if he wants, but Puck learned a long time ago: you don’t argue with Nana. 

“So I watch the news regularly, boys,” Nana proclaims as they head into the restaurant and join the buffet line. “You should have told me what you were up to, boychick. I would have come! I told Rabbi Miller about what you’re doing, and President Feldman, too. We’re going to get all the members at your next meeting!”

“Uh.” Puck can feel his eyes widening. “That’s great?”

“It is! Rabbi Miller’s going to talk to St. Luke’s and Christ Episcopal, too.”

“Well, any support is of course welcomed,” Kurt manages, in between filling his plate with eggs Benedict and sausage. Puck puts some of the bacon on his own plate, shooting his Nana a quick look. She just grins and pretends not to notice. “I’m sure it will help counteract what other, uh, more conservative religious groups organize.”

“Exactly! Wonderful thing you’re doing.” Before either of them can respond, she shifts topics just as quickly. “Now I need to hear all about New York. Where are you going to live? Tell me you’re not going to live in Brooklyn. Awful. Why would you live in a place like that?”

“Have you been to Brooklyn?” Kurt asks.

“Pffft. No. But I just know it’d be awful.”

“Well, no worries, Nana,” Puck interjects. “Manhattan.”

“Ahh, I knew you were my smartest grandson.”

“Nana, I’m your _only_ grandson.”

“Details, details.” Nana waves her hand. “You going to live above a dance club?”

“No, Nana,” Puck answers, laughing. “It sort of depends on where we both get in.”

“Hopefully Upper West Side. It’s a nice neighborhood.”

“You stay there when you went to audition?”

“Yeah, nice place just off Central Park.”

“Make sure you get an apartment with a guest room!” Nana instructs them. “Let your poor Nana come to visit. You find a synagogue there yet, Noach?”

“There’s one in Chelsea that looks okay,” Puck answers. “It’s the big gay one.”

“There’s a big gay synagogue?” Nana looks like she just won the lottery. “I love it! New York! You’re going to love New York!”

“That’s the plan,” Puck agrees. “What about you? Going on a big trip again?”

“Nothing big this spring,” Nana sighs regretfully. “Just a few knitting weekend trips with the Knitzvahs. One to Michigan, maybe one all the way in Wisconsin.”

“Some of Kurt’s relatives live in Wisconsin.”

“Yes, small town western Wisconsin,” Kurt nods. “I would say near Eau Claire, but to be honest, it’s not _that_ close, Eau Claire is merely the closest recognizable location. And Finn’s going to Madison.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Nana says, snapping her fingers. “I saw that on the news, too. I like Madison. Nice little city. Sent those protesters pizza last year. Cold, though. Finn’ll need to pack a union suit!”

“We’ll, uh, be sure to mention that to him,” Puck nods. 

“No, wait!” Nana laughs. “I’ll get him one as a graduation present. Now just to figure out what to get the two of you.”

“Gift cards are fine,” Puck answers quickly. “Really.”

“Of course they are! I mean to go _with_ the gift cards.” Nana’s smile is actually a little worrisome. “Now. Tell me more about this Upper West Side.”

 

_U guys gotta come see this!_

“Finn has summoned us,” Puck snorts, reading his phone. “Guess if we’re late, Rachel can bitch more, right?”

Kurt laughs. “Right.” He parks on the street instead of pulling into the driveway and turns off the Nav. “Let’s go see what Finn has.” 

They barely get inside the house before Finn comes bounding up to them in full Great Dane form. “Look what mom found!” Finn brandishes a very small white T-shirt. 

Puck laughs. “Oh, man.” There’s a White Ranger emblazoned on the front. “I remember that shirt.”

“I know! Isn’t this awesome?” Finn waves the shirt at Puck. “You said you’d wear it, remember? You should totally try it on!”

Puck looks helplessly at Kurt, who just grins. “Betrayer,” he mutters to Kurt, then sighs and strips off his shirt. “Fine, hand it over.”

Finn beams as he shoves the shirt into Puck’s hands. “This is so awesome!”

Puck keeps grumbling as he forces the shirt over his head and his arms through the sleeves. “This is— ugh. Tight.” He wrestles the shirt the rest of the way on, and it stops a good three inches before his jeans start. “Um.”

“Oh, _dude_ ,” Finn says, trying so hard to contain his laughter that he’s literally folding in half. “That is… the best thing I have ever seen, ever, in my _life_!”

“You know what you should wear with it?” Kurt says, smirking. “Your green shorts.”

“Those _shorts_!” Finn wails, giving up and falling all the way over onto the floor, shaking with laughter.

Puck snorts and laughs. “Yeah, that’d make a great outfit.” He starts to try to pull the White Ranger shirt off when Kurt slaps his hands. 

“You should wear that to rehearsal.”

Finn makes a pained sound from the floor. “Please wear that to rehearsal,” he says, still laughing. “Oh my god, please do. That would be even more awesome!”

“All right, all right,” Puck sighs, shaking his head. “Now I really need my coat.”

“It’s a balmly 45°F out there!” Kurt giggles. “Come on, you two. We’re going to be late and Rachel will try to force-feed us tofu dogs or something.”

“Pass!” Finn declares. “Ooh, but now I want Joey’s. Joey’s after?”

“It’s Sunday!” Puck declares. “Stupid Christians. Which reminds me.”

Finn makes a grumpy face, and Kurt narrows his eyes a little. “Reminds you what?”

“That couple from last week came back,” Puck explains as they walk out to the Nav, cold air hitting his exposed skin. “Shit. Anyway. Their preacher guy talked about us.”

Kurt sighs. “Figures. I assume they discussed it?”

“Yeah. Girding the youth and Scripture for school.”

“They want the youth to wear girdles?” Finn asks. “That’s why I don’t go to church.”

Kurt and Puck both laugh. “Not girdles,” Kurt sputters, climbing into the Nav and starting the engine. 

“Gird. Like arm. Ammunition.” Puck shrugs. “They’re going to pray at us, I guess.”

“That sounds… uh, I guess they could have worse ammunition?” Finn suggests. “Like gun ammunition or something. That would be worse. No shooting. No girdles and no shooting.”

“It’s kind of ironic. They’re going yell stuff from the Torah at us. And everyone at my synagogue would disagree with them.”

“That’s because Jewish people have better taste,” Finn says. 

Puck grins as Kurt smirks. “I guess we would know.”

Finn just shrugs as they arrive at Rachel’s house, just a minute before seven. “Well, we’re not technically late,” Puck points out. “Even if I’m missing a few inches of fabric.”

“It’s a fashion statement or whatever,” Finn says. “That shirt is very fashionable. You look awesome.”

“It’s something,” Kurt agrees, knocking on the door.

Leroy opens the door, and before he can get out a greeting, he notices Puck’s shirt. “Puck! That is quite a shirt you’ve got there!”

“Or not got,” Puck agrees. “These two thought I should revisit 2000.”

“Doesn’t he look _awesome_?” Finn chirps. “I think he looks _awesome_! That’s totally my shirt, too. My mom found it.”

“Finn’s trying to start a new trend, and Puck is the trendsetter, it seems,” Kurt agrees. “It’s something.”

“That’s me. Something,” Puck nods.

“He is something!” Finn says. “Best shirt ever!”

Leroy just shakes his head and lets them inside, and they head downstairs, where the rest of the club is already assembled. 

“Puck, your shirt is beautiful,” Brittany says, as soon as they reach the bottom of the stairs. 

“Why thank you,” Puck says wryly. “It’s barely there.”

“Hot,” Santana smirks. “Didn’t Hudson have a shirt like that back in elementary school?”

“It _is_ my shirt from elementary school!” Finn grins and gives two thumbs up. “My mom found it!”

“Then why, exactly, is Puck wearing it?” Sam asks, sounding mystified.

Finn gives Sam a confused look. “Because he said he would.”

“Also because I never got my Darth Maul shirt.”

“That’s just tragic,” Artie says, shaking his head.

“It’s certainly quite a statement, Noah!” Rachel interjects. “Can you adequately move to rehearse?”

Puck frowns at her. “Are you saying my shirt is too tight?”

“I think it’s awesome,” Finn mutters.

“Once again, outstandingly heterosexual, you guys,” Artie says.

“Fascinating as this is, perhaps we should rehearse,” Kurt says dryly. “What are we doing today, O fearless leader who saves all of his old T-shirts?”

“We need to break down the lines for ‘Somebody Told Me’ and get those assigned,” Finn says. “Mike needs to know who’s singing what so he can work on the choreography.”

“Yep,” Mike agrees with a nod. “And Brittany and I agreed that we’re just singing the group parts for that one. I know you’re shocked about that for me,” he grins. “But we’ve got some awesome dancing for the two of us.”

“They do,” Tina agrees. “And I have the lyrics here, so.”

“Let’s go through it line by line,” Finn says. “We’ll get this figured out today.”

 

By some unspoken arrangement, there’s a moderately large group meeting in the parking lot on Monday morning, almost everyone from glee club plus a smattering of PFLAG members, and they walk into the building together. There’s a badly–concealed sneer on a few faces as they walk in and gradually separate, and Puck has to wonder about the rest of them. This was just the older kids, the youngest one in their cluster being Casey. 

Sam, Brittany, and Finn all fall into step with Puck as they head towards history. “At least one church talked about us yesterday,” Puck says quietly to Sam and Brittany. “Overheard them talking about it at work.”

“No one mentioned it at mine,” Sam assures them. “But I’m sure a few are up in arms.”

“I heard a couple guys talking about it when I was unloading some boxes at Burt’s shop,” Finn says. “Nothing bad, though. They sounded confused. Or maybe I was confused. I dunno, it was early.”

“Confused how?” Sam asks. “It’s not that hard to figure out, is it? I mean, I’m surprised it hasn’t been reduced to a sound bite yet.”

“Maybe the fact that it was a mix of people talking confused them,” Puck points out. “It wasn’t just Kurt and Santana or something.”

Finn shrugs. “Something about a gay rights fight or something. One of them thought maybe the school board wanted to put gay kids in a separate school.”

“Maybe that guy knows Schue,” Puck snorts.

“Will we have to sit in the hall?” Brittany asks. “Which school would I go to?”

Puck grins. “Exactly, right?” 

“What are you talking about?” Sam shakes his head. “Sitting in the hall? What?”

“Maybe I’d have to do dual enrollment. I could go to both schools!” Brittany nods like she’s got it all figured out.

“I’m still confused,” Sam admits.

“Remember how the rooms were at Nationals last year?”

“Likes boys and likes girls,” Finn explains.

“Ohh. Right. Yeah, that was _dumb_. Five in our room and _eight_ in the other room.”

“And some people weren’t even in the right room,” Puck adds with a smirk. 

“And some people have to sleep in the hall,” Brittany says.

“You didn’t really have to sleep in the hall, Brittany,” Finn says.

“But I should have.”

“The rooms would have looked different if everyone had to be 100% honest,” Puck muses, nodding. They reach the history classroom and walk in, and he nods at Mrs. Vey. “Really for it to work you’d have to get at least five rooms, right? Put a letter on each door?”

“Six. There’s an I now,” Finn says, offhandedly.

“Pretty sure that Tina wants that in there as a just in case, not because we’ve managed to cram all six letters plus a token straight dude or two into glee club,” Puck laughs. “How about it, Sam? You want to claim a letter?” He smirks again. 

“Uh, I’ll just stick with an ‘A’, I guess,” Sam chuckles and sits down. “Be one of those token straight dudes.”

“There’s enough letters for everybody,” Finn says. “You can even take more than one if you want.”

“Alphabet–theme, that’s what we should do for that Night of Noise thing.” Puck nods, thinking it over. “Yeah, I’m a genius,” he concludes.

“We can play Scrabble. I might actually win if I’m playing, like, a freshman or something,” Finn says. “And no ‘Finn is so dumb’ jokes. I know a lot of words, but Kurt says I have no board strategy.”

“You don’t, dude. You had a _Z_ and you didn’t put it on the triple word score spot.”

“No words have z in the middle, dude,” Finn insists. “There wasn’t room.”

“Uh, pizza?” Sam offers. “Only ’cause I see that word way too much when I’m working.”

“See? Pizza!” Puck says triumphantly. “Shorter than embezzle, too.”

“I only had _one_ z, genius.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m the smart one. I could’ve found a one–z word.”

“Yeah, well… well, your _face_ could have found a one–z word,” Finn counters.

“That’s right. My genius face.”

“Lucky you’re the smart one,” Finn says. “’Cause you definitely aren’t the pretty one.”

“Ouch!” Puck puts his hand over his heart and leans back. “I’m hurt, Hudson.”

“What, are you the pretty one?” Sam asks Finn.

Finn shoots Sam an incredulous look. “No, dude. Kurt’s the pretty one, obviously. I’m the one who lifts the heavy stuff.”

Puck laughs as Sam looks confused for a moment, then shrugs. “Yeah, okay. That makes sense.”

Before they can respond further, Mrs. Vey starts talking about steam engines again, and Puck lets his laughter trail off. 

 

Puck can’t help but hurry a bit after history, because it seems like Mrs. Strandberg might be worse news this week. Kurt’s approaching the room slowly from the other direction, looking like his thoughts are going the same way. They time their entrance just after three of the juniors, slipping to the back of the room as quickly as they can.

Mrs. Strandberg just glares at them, both of them, and there’s a deep sneer on her face as she looks at Kurt, then at Puck, before frowning at the clock on the side wall. The moment that the second hand passes the twelve, she clears her throat. “Well. As I said previously, I am _dedicated_ to improving the culture and, dare I say it, the _morality_ of the classroom as well, even in the face of adversity and malignant forces. With that in mind, I have chosen our day’s reading selection very carefully.”

Puck is half–afraid of hearing about Sodom and Gomorrah, or maybe some of Leviticus or that Paul dude he read about over the summer, but even Mrs. Strandberg isn’t going to go that far, at least not yet, and she settles for some story out of a _Readers’ Digest_ that is probably meant to be wholesome and moral. Puck tries not to fall asleep; Kurt takes diligent notes on her commentary and dates them. Puck quirks an eyebrow and Kurt flips to a new page. 

_In case we need to file a complaint later._

Puck nods; yeah, that makes sense. So far she’s been careful to toe the line but who knows what will happen?

When she finishes with the dumbass story and no one “engages her in conversation”, she puts the magazine aside with a disapproving hum and starts lecturing. Puck wonders if he’s paranoid, or if she really is glaring at him and Kurt more than the rest of the class. The rest of them certainly aren’t _spared_ , but somehow it feels different. By the middle of class, Puck’s just staring, meeting her gaze without flinching. If she wants to sneer – fine. Let her.

Puck knows he still has that chip on his shoulder when he walks into English. Rachel looks startled when she drops into the desk beside him. “Are you quite all right, Noah?”

“Substitute in physics,” Puck bites out. “She’s going to be trouble.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bullshit about morality. I don’t know.” Puck shakes his head. “It’s not gonna be good.”

“Well, I certainly hope that you are incorrect in this instance,” Rachel says, then sighs slightly. “But you might be right.”

“Yeah,” Puck nods. “Well, we needed something to finish out the year, right?”

Rachel laughs a little. “Right.”

 

Schue is discussing something with Brad, and the room is quiet overall when Puck steps through the door, Rachel on his heels. If Puck had to put a finger on it, he’d say the entire school feels like it’s anxious, but since giving everyone Xanax is probably out, maybe he should give himself one before school the next day.

“All right,” Schue says after the bell rings. “Four more performances today. Anybody raring to go first?”

“Sure,” Artie volunteers. “I’m going to do Pink Floyd’s ‘Wish You Were Here’.”

“Oh, very nice.” 

Artie has fun with it, though it’s not going on Puck’s list of Artie’s top performances. 

_And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?  
Hot ashes for trees?  
Hot air for a cool breeze?  
Cold comfort for change?  
And did you exchange a walk-on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?  
How I wish, how I wish you were here._

“Classic song, good choice,” Schue says. “Who’s next?”

Quinn stands up and walks to the front without any commentary, nodding slightly at Brad. For some reason, Quinn has decided to attempt Sinead O’Connor, which Puck doesn’t think he’d recommend, but she gives it a try, anyway. 

_It's been seven hours and fifteen days  
Since u took your love away  
I go out every night and sleep all day  
Since u took your love away  
Since u been gone I can do whatever I want  
I can see whomever I choose  
I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant  
But nothing  
I said nothing can take away these blues  
’Cause nothing compares  
Nothing compares 2 u _

“Nice choice for the assignment, Quinn,” Schue says at the end, which makes Puck think he didn’t think much about Quinn’s attempt at Sinead, either. “All right, Brittany or Mercedes?”

“I can go!” Brittany says. 

“Great! What do you have for us?”

Brittany silently hands a pink binder to Puck before standing up in front of the class. Puck looks down to read the silver glitter letters. ‘Bat Guitar!’ To complete the look, there’s a silver glitter pen Batman logo. He flips it open curiously and there’s tab for the White Stripes’ “We’re Going to Be Friends”. Puck shrugs and stands, picking up his guitar and leaning against the piano slightly. 

Brittany is very obviously serenading Santana when she starts singing.

_fall is here, hear the yell  
back to school, ring the bell  
brand new shoes, walking blues  
climb the fence, book and pens  
i can tell that we are gonna be friends _

Santana maintains her bored bitchface throughout the entire song, which is also how she looked whenever they hooked up. Puck wonders if he looked as utterly bored with the entire concept of heterosexual sex, too. Really, how pathetic were the two of them?

When Brittany finishes, she sits down next to Santana and plants a kiss on her lips. Santana looks much less bored now, and Artie, Tina, and Mike all look interested. “Ahem!” Schue clears his throat. 

“Did you need a cough drop, Mr. Schue?” Finn asks. “I think I still have some in my backpack.”

“Oh, no thank you, Finn,” Schue assures Finn. “Girls? We still need to hear from Mercedes.”

Brittany holds up one finger, though it’s hard to tell if she’s shushing Schue or indicating one more minute. “Mr. Schue?” Sam offers. “I have a water bottle.”

Schue chuckles. “Hopefully we won’t need that. Uh, Quinn, Kurt, if you could uh, pull them apart?”

Kurt just leans forward and taps Brittany on the shoulder, while Quinn starts peeling Santana’s arms from Brittany’s body. “What?” Santana growls, rolling her eyes. “I was just expressing my opinion about her song.”

“I’m a moving performer,” Brittany says.

“Yes, well, that may be the case,” Schue says hurriedly, “but we still have another performance before the bell.”

“I’m going to do ‘Yesterday’,” Mercedes announces even before anyone can respond to Schue. She does a version of it with a slight R’n’B feel, swaying a little with the music. 

“Nice choice to end that assignment,” Schue nods as Mercedes retakes her seat. “For the rest of the week, how about movie or television theme songs? Solos or duets.”

“Of course, Mr. Schuester!” Rachel says. “What an interesting idea.”

“Well, hopefully it’ll be kind of fun,” Schue answers. “See everyone Thursday!”

 

The best part about dual enrollment, Puck has decided, is the random weeks where he doesn’t have to go to any class at all three afternoons out of five. Granted, there aren’t any more like that after the one they’re starting, but it’s been a nice surprise periodically throughout the year. He and Kurt go to his apartment, pulling out leftovers for lunch. “So,” Kurt begins, smirking. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you.”

“Tell me _what_?”

“I talked to Dad yesterday morning. About you spending the night and how often.” Kurt’s smirk morphs into a wide grin. “We can close the door and if you stay more than two nights, you have to have chores, too.”

“Seriously? That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Kurt confirms. “I was a bit surprised myself.”

“Well.” Puck grins. “All right.”

“Probably your sister would miss you if you just moved in,” Kurt points out regretfully. “But, I was thinking… at least the nights you don’t have to work the next morning?”

“So… tonight?” Puck keeps grinning. “Monday, Thursday, Friday nights. Yeah?”

“At least for now.” Kurt leans to the side, resting his head on Puck’s shoulder. “I thought that later, well.”

Puck nods. “Yeah, I don’t know when my mom and Hannah will move to a smaller apartment. When that happens, I’ll probably need to stay at yours most nights.”

“Right.” Kurt slides his hand under Puck’s shirt, fingers dancing over Puck’s skin. “Any plans for this afternoon, baby?”

“Thought about spending a little quality time on a mattress,” Puck jokes. “At least until you abandon me in favor of belts and radiators and, um. Tires.”

“That’s me. Abandoner.” Kurt flicks his tongue over Puck’s ear. “Quality time on a mattress, you said?”

“Mmmhmm.” Puck leans his head to the side for a moment as Kurt nibbles on his ear, then stands up slowly. “Want me to show you, blue eyes?”

“I do!” Kurt agrees, standing as well, and they walk towards Puck’s bedroom, which he has to admit is starting to look a little bare. Puck had planned on working more on it that afternoon already, and if he’s going to be at Kurt’s at least three nights a week, he really should do like Finn said and just leave some clothes there. Kurt pivots, his hands crawling under Puck’s shirt as their lips meet. 

Puck parts his lips and runs his hands under Kurt’s sweater and undershirt as Kurt’s fingers unbutton Puck’s own shirt. They pull apart slowly and then quickly remove each other’s clothes, hands reaching for belts as their lips reconnect. “Want you, blue eyes,” Puck whispers into Kurt’s ear. “Want you inside of me.”

“Oh, yes,” Kurt nods, pushing down Puck’s jeans and underwear. “I want to be inside of you right now.”

Puck steps close as soon as he gets Kurt’s own jeans and underwear down at least to Kurt’s knees, pressing the two of them together and attaching his lips to Kurt’s neck. “It’s just going to be one of those weeks, K,” Puck laughs against Kurt’s skin, and Kurt giggles slightly.

“I had a feeling it might be.” Kurt leans his neck to the side, giving Puck better access. “I do like these weeks without dual enrollment.”

Puck raises his head and grins. “Me too.”

They fumble their way the rest of the distance to the bed, tripping over their clothes as they finally discard them, and Kurt rummages in the drawer of the bedside table for half a minute before Puck can feel two slicked fingers pressing into him. Kurt’s fingertips quirk upwards, brushing against his prostate and then pushing against it more insistently. “Mmm, so nice and tight, baby.”

Puck closes his eyes, pushing his hips back onto Kurt’s fingers, his body shuddering slightly around Kurt. “Fuck, K. Want you _now_.”

“Yes,” Kurt agrees from behind Puck, and after another moment, Kurt’s fingers leave, only to be replaced by his cock. Kurt pushes inside with one slow, steady stroke, his hands gripping Puck’s hips. “God, yes. You feel so good, Puck.”

“Yeah.” Puck relaxes around Kurt and then squeezes. “Fuck, move.”

“Oh, god, yes,” Kurt hisses, and then he’s moving in and out of Puck, hips snapping forward while his fingers dig into Puck’s hips and Puck just holds himself steady, rocking to meet Kurt’s thrusts as much as he can. “Fuck so tight, Puck, so good, oh _god_ ,” he murmurs, and Puck tightens around Kurt at the apex of each thrust. 

Kurt’s hand wraps around Puck’s cock, stroking furiously, and Puck can hear a faint hum behind him. He pushes back, hard, with the next thrust, and Kurt comes hard, deep inside him, and Puck can feel his own release follow just seconds later, Kurt’s hand moving rapidly until they’re both spent, collapsing onto Puck’s bed. 

“Mmm. I do love these weeks,” Kurt murmurs, and Puck can practically hear the grin on his face. 

Puck laughs. “Me too. Rest until you go to work?”

Kurt nods against Puck’s chest. “Mmmhmm.” He reaches for his phone to set an alarm as Puck brings a blanket over them. “Good.”

“Yes.”

 

After Kurt leaves for work, Puck turns back to the rest of his room and spends thirty minutes sorting through even more shit. For a small room, and to have tossed a bunch of stuff a year before, he finds a lot to sort through. He separates his clothes into two stacks, putting the somewhat smaller stack into his duffel bag, and putting the rest back into three of his five drawers. The closet gets similar treatment before he heads towards his desk. 

He’s still working his away through his desk when Hannah and his mom arrive home, Hannah appearing in his doorway with a suspiciously wide grin. “What?” he asks after a moment.

“Chicken butt!” she crows, laughing and then moving off to her own room. Puck just blinks for a moment and then shrugs. Kids, girls – he doesn’t really understand either one, he figures. 

“Noah?” Rina calls a few moments later. 

“Yeah, Mom?”

“Is this another bag for the Goodwill?”

Puck pokes his head out the door then and shrugs. “Yeah. Not stuff I really need. Our apartment in New York is going to be, like, the size of our living room here, Mom.”

“Oh, well. Okay.” She shakes her head. “Dinner’ll be ready at six. Kurt’ll be here?”

“Yeah, he should be here any minute.”

 

After dinner, Rina takes Hannah towards her dance class and Puck goes ahead with Kurt to the Hudmel house, duffel bag and backpack in tow. When they arrive, Carole is paging through some kind of pregnancy book, Burt is attempting to assemble some piece of furniture from a pile of wooden poles and a plastic tray, and Finn is in the kitchen, putting a strange assortment of items into a bowl on the counter. “Is that… _marshmallow fluff_?” Kurt asks incredulously. “What are you doing?”

“It’s experimental snack,” Finn says. “I’m just rolling with it to see what happens.”

“Why is your younger brother so much like my younger sister?” Puck asks Kurt. “I don’t understand.”

“Because Hannah is _awesome_ , dude,” Finn says. “She’s way cooler than you.”

Puck snorts. “Yeah, if you’re into Justin Bieber.”

Finn shrugs. “She’ll outgrow the Bieber phase. You’ll never outgrow the not being as cool as Hannah phase. So sad.” He opens a container of vanilla ice cream and plops a scoop into the middle of his bowl.

“If being cool means I have to eat that, I’ll be the uncool older brother,” Puck decides. “The cereal was too much, dude.”

“That’s why it’s experimental,” Finn says, shaking his head at Puck. “If I don’t _try_ it, how will I know if it’s too much or if it’s awesome? You should be open to new experiences, dude.”

“Pate. Actual food.”

“This might be the best thing ever,” Finn says, scooping up a large bite and pointedly shoving it into his mouth. He chews thoughtfully, the mumbles, “Oh my god, this tastes like _shit_.”

Kurt starts snickering as he digs in the freezer and pulls out Ben & Jerry’s. “You want yours, then?” he asks Finn. 

“Yes, please,” Finn says, sounding kind of pitiful after swallowing his experimental snack bite.

“Here.” Kurt tosses the container to Finn. 

“Older brother win,” Puck says, straightfaced. 

“We usually do,” Kurt shrugs. “Ah, but we do need him for a bit.”

“True.”

“Hey now! Don’t start talking about me like I’m not here,” Finn warns. “What do you need me for?”

“Chores,” Kurt shrugs, smirking slightly. “Actually, you might like this discussion.”

“Why do I have a feeling I should worry now?”

“Because maybe you should?”

“Wait, why will I like a discussion about chores?” Finn asks. 

“Because we get to give some away!”

“Sweet!” Finn does a victory fist with the hand not holding the ice cream. “Who gets them?”

“Puck.” Kurt grins widely.

“Oh.” Finn looks at Puck apologetically. “Sorry, dude. But, still, _sweet!_ ”

Puck shrugs. “There are compensations.”

“Are you getting paid?” Finn asks.

“Hey, I’m not that kind of girl!” Puck laughs. 

“Not what _I_ heard, dude.”

“Hmph.”

“No, Dad said if Puck was here more than two nights a week, he got chores. So.” Kurt shrugs.

“He should get a dinner night,” Finn says. “He can have one of mine.”

“I’m not sure if that’s not a cause for celebration,” Kurt says dryly. 

“Well, see? Works out great for everybody,” Finn says. “Except Puck, I guess.”

“Cooking’s better than a lot of things,” Puck points out. “Like your toilet.”

“My toilet is _fine_. Don’t be judgy.”

“Right. My apologies to your porcelain throne,” Puck snorts. “Okay, dinner. What else? You don’t have to do any other chores?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I have to take care of all my own stuff, but you don’t use any of that stuff. We could put you in the rotation for the vacuuming and mopping, though,” Finn says.

“Okay.” Puck shrugs. “That works.”

“So are you gonna be part-time living here or something now?” Finn asks. 

Puck just looks over at Kurt and shrugs. “Ask the mastermind behind this plan.”

“Sleep is a good thing,” Kurt says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

Finn nods at Kurt like what he said made perfect sense. “That’s cool. Burt’s ok with it?”

“Hence the chores,” Kurt nods. 

“Awesome! Well, if you decide you want to, like, shovel the walk or something, you can let me know,” Finn says. “I’ll swap you back out for the dinner night.”

“Don’t shovel the walk,” Kurt says to Puck. “Please.”

“My cooking isn’t that bad.” Finn makes a grumpy face. 

“No, just monotonous,” Kurt concedes. 

“I could learn something new.”

“You just failed with experimental snack, dude,” Puck points out. “Maybe stick to recipes if you learn something new.”

“Nobody ever tells me what they want. If they’d give me some ideas, maybe I could learn to cook them,” Finn says. 

“Everyone loves macaroni and cheese. And you can add stuff to it, too.”

“Fine. I’ll learn mac ’n’ cheese, and it’ll be the best damn mac ’n’ cheese ever in this world,” Finn declares. “You are gonna _love_ this fucking mac ’n’ cheese.”

“Fucking mac ’n’ cheese. All right.” Kurt shrugs. “No box?”

“I’ll find a recipe online,” Finn says. “It’ll have, like, ingredients and stuff. _Cheese_ ingredients.”

“Well, that’s a good first step for something called macaroni _and cheese_ ,” Puck agrees. “Hamburgers are easy, too.”

“I make hamburgers.”

“See? There you go. Put something different on a burger.”

“What, like a sauce or something?” Finn looks askance at Puck. “Maybe _you_ can do weird stuff to burgers. I’m going to perfect my fucking mac ’n’ cheese.”

“If you get bored of that,” Kurt says, smirking, “there’s always Mexican.”

“Nooooo!” Finn shakes his fist at the sky. “Anything but that!” He recomposes his face and adds, “Anything other than vegan stuff or that. No vegan stuff.”

“I think your worst nightmare would be a meal with vegan Mexican food,” Puck grins. “Tofu tacos.”

“Never speak of that again,” Finn says.

“Tempeh burritos?” Kurt says innocently. 

“Never again!”

 

Even though Kurt assures Puck that Burt really did say they could close the door, because Burt didn’t want to hear anything, they decide by mutual glance and shrugging that maybe the first night of this new arrangement, they should close the door but not do anything for Burt to really overhear. 

Still, with the door closed, neither of them feels the need to pretend to be clothed, and Puck sighs contentedly as they settle into each other’s arms, skin against skin, Kurt’s lips brushing against the back of Puck’s neck. 

Puck sleeps soundly, not waking up until just before the alarm on Kurt’s phone starts to buzz, and he turns it off and sets the phone back down before running a finger down Kurt’s nose. Kurt wrinkles his nose and Puck grins. “Morning, blue eyes.”

Kurt squints. “Good morning.” He smiles slowly. “Sleep good, baby?”

“I did,” Puck answers, his grin growing wider. “Amazingly well, in fact. And now I’m ready for waffles.”

“Me too,” Kurt admits a moment later, his stomach growling at the end of the sentence, and he laughs. “Obviously.”

The morning and breakfast are so easy and comfortable that it’s not until they’re in the hallway, about to go their separate ways, that Puck remembers fully the tension in the air. He sees a few more sneers than the day before, too many directed specifically at Kurt, but no one actually _says_ anything, and Puck frowns as he heads towards history. 

Physics is the same uncomfortable tension as the day before, Mrs. Strandberg against the class, for all practical purposes. Nothing happens to break the stalemate; she doesn’t tip her hand and they’re all careful to toe her line. Kurt takes notes again, dating them at the end, and this time, he surreptitiously records a voice memo on his phone as well. It’s like a big game of waiting, and Puck fights the temptation to stop as they’re leaving class and kiss Kurt two feet away from Mrs. Strandberg. 

Unfortunately that’s the thought that plagues him throughout English—or at least the kissing part—and then during rehearsal Kurt and Santana decide to renew their game of oneup(wo)manship with the dancing. Normally, Puck wouldn’t mind—of the four people left in glee club that don’t know, one is dancing with Santana and the other three aren’t that observant—but all it does is leave him uncomfortably hard with the promise of PFLAG and a drive to Toledo taking up the entire afternoon. Fuck.

Puck ends up walking stiffly down the hall to PFLAG, thankful he doesn’t have on the tightest jeans in the world, and sighs when he realizes that Rachel’s providing lunch today. “I’ll bring you food when I come back later,” Kurt whispers under his breath. 

“Thank god,” Puck nods. “Because that is…” he shakes his head, looking over the food table. There’s some kind of fake meat, a curry that looks like it might actually be edible, and various presentations of tofu and the other fake meat types. 

“Is that _fake cheese_?” Finn’s voice suddenly asks from behind Puck. 

“’Fraid so,” Puck answers with a nod, not turning around. “Fake meat, too.”

“I am gonna starve to death today,” Finn sighs. “I think this is punishment. Could she still be punishing me? Should I take this personally? ’Cause this feels personal.”

“She’s punishing _all_ of us, dude,” Puck points out. “She’s the only vegan out of what, forty of us?” 

“Yes, I’m going to suggest to whomever runs PFLAG next year that they _strongly consider_ an actual policy about what is and is not acceptable food,” Kurt adds. 

“That’s not even _real_ food,” Finn whines. 

“Exactly,” Kurt agrees darkly. “It’d be different if she brought _actual vegetables_.”

“Or fruit. Can’t she eat fruit?” Puck points out. 

“As long as it’s not picked by, like, monkey slave labor lab animals or something,” Finn says. “This is just… it’s just, it’s _spite food_.”

“I’ll bring you something carnivorous, too,” Kurt says with an amused sigh. “I’ll put it in your locker before last period.”

“How are you gonna get it into my locker?” Finn asks. 

“Using the combination,” Kurt responds, raising one eyebrow. “Usually the easiest way is the best.”

“How do you have my— you know what? I think this is just one of those things where I’m just gonna roll with it,” Finn says. “You’re awesome, you’re the best Kurt ever, and meat will appear in my locker. That’s all I need to know,” he adds, shaking his head.

Kurt just smirks and sits down as some of the others start to enter the room, and Puck drops into his own seat with a sigh. Taylor, Brown’s sister, and some of the other freshmen walk in, and Taylor makes a strange face of his own at the food table. “What _is_ that?” he asks. 

“It’s a seitan roast!” Rachel announces from the doorway. “Stuffed with leeks and shittake mushrooms for a savory meat–like flavor and smokiness without the cruelty or environmental impact!”

“I thought when you said vegan snacks, you meant a vegetable tray.” Taylor shrugs and sits down. “Oh well.” Brown’s sister leaves an empty chair on either side of her, which is explained a moment later when Rick and Brown enter the room. Rick makes a beeline for the seat next to Brown’s sister, and when Brown gives him a wounded look, Rick just shrugs. Instead of sitting in his usual spot, Brown slouches over to the chair next to Casey’s normal seat and flumps into it, sulking. 

Mike and Tina walk in just ahead of Sam and Mercedes, and Tina grins at Taylor before doing her own politer grimace at the food offered. Karofsky lumbers in next, Casey next to him, the two of them engaged in some quiet conversation. Casey seems less frantic without being overly subdued, which might be good in terms of his metabolism or something. For his part, Karofsky looks a little less like someone forgot to hang a ‘beware of guard dog’ sign around his neck, and the pair of them sit down next to Brown. 

The unlikely trio of Artie, Brittany, and Santana enter the room together, and Artie actually wheels up next to their chairs and continues in whatever conversation they’re having. Brittany claps her hands excitedly over something Artie says, and Santana looks like she’s trying very hard not to appear interested in whatever is going on. 

Mandy and the people she usually sits with come in just behind Lauren and the A/V Club kids, and Ms. Pillsbury closes the door after that, taking a seat between Schue and Beiste. 

“Welcome to PFLAG,” Kurt says after a moment. “Introductions. I’m Kurt.” He turns his head to his right, looking at Puck. 

“Puck.”

“Finn.” Finn raises his hand a little and offers a polite wave. 

Some of the A/V club people are next to Finn, and they introduce themselves quickly before it gets to Lauren. “I’m Lauren Zizes, and you should listen to what this guy next to me’s gonna say to you,” she says, jerking a thumb in Artie’s direction.

Artie adjusts his glasses, looking pleased, if nervous. “Hi, I’m Artie, and I have this idea of making a short documentary on the changes we’re trying to get made in the bullying policies with the school board. Lauren and the A/V club have offered to help me. We’re going to get the video footage from the last meeting, set up to film at the next one, and do some interviews. If you spoke at the meeting last time or plan to speak at the next one, I’d appreciate if you’d swing by after PFLAG and we’ll set up a time to interview you.”

There’s a low murmur and a few nods, and then Santana introduces herself. “Santana. Lesbian.”

“Hi! I’m Brittany and I put the B in bisexual,” Brittany says. Santana shoots Brittany a look of affectionate confusion before shaking her head a little. 

Mandy and the other underclassmen with her introduce themselves before it’s Brown’s turn, and he’s still sulking when he looks at Rick and his sister. “I’m Miles Brown and what can I say? I love all you guys,” he says, with a little wave around the room. “’Cept you, Foots. You’re on my list.”

Brown’s sister blows him a kiss from across the room and pointedly laces her fingers with Rick’s, which makes Rick grin kind of stupidly. Brown points his finger in Rick’s direction and raises an eyebrow. Casey seems to be making an effort not to laugh at Brown.

“I’m Casey,” Casey says. “Um, hi.”

“Dave.” Karofsky does an abbreviated nod. Casey leans over and whispers something to Karofsky, who snorts in what appears to be amusement. 

When they get to Taylor, he looks around the room first. “I’m Taylor, and if you weren’t at the meeting last week or haven’t heard the rumors starting to circulate, I’m trans.” He smiles briefly. “And yes, Taylor is my legal name; my parents gave me a nice androgynous name, thankfully.”

There’s a brief ripple of laughter, and only a few surprised faces. 

Finn looks over at Puck, and then says, “So, uh, speaking of the meeting last week. Everybody doing ok? Anybody noticing an increase in people saying or doing anything they shouldn’t?” He looks around Puck, glancing at Kurt nervously, like he’s worried Kurt’s going to be mad he asked. “If anybody here’s being harassed or whatever, maybe we should talk about it, so we’re all on the same page.”

“Like I said, rumors.” Taylor shrugs. “Some looks. And that asinine substitute.” He looks chagrined briefly, glancing at the teachers in the corner, but they just laugh. 

“I’ve been documenting her stories, their sources, and her commentary,” Kurt offers. “In case it’s necessary to make a formal complaint. No one in our class has engaged her in conversation, though, nor do they appear to agree with her.”

“Johannson told me in class he’d heard I was at that—sorry guys, I’m just quoting here—‘meeting about the queers’ and wanted to know if I was there for or against,” Rick says. “I told him he could go, um, you know. Himself.” Rick scratches his head and looks a little embarrassed. 

“I don’t think he’s smart enough to figure out how,” Kurt points out, smirking slightly, and there’s some louder laughter. 

“I’ve gotten a few looks,” Mandy admits. “And some people have pulled me aside to tell me that they’re _praying_ for me and my family. Like we don’t go to church ourselves!”

“Yeah, some people came into work on Sunday afternoon,” Puck offers. “At least one church dude preached about it. Something about arming themselves to come to school this week and fighting for righteousness.”

“Not with guns,” Finn adds. “Just girdles of, like, faith or something.”

“My dad got a phone call from someone at our church, though,” Karofsky says. “Trying to organize a group to come to the next meeting in support.” Puck shakes his head. Once Nana gets an idea, everyone might as well give up and just assume it’s going to happen.

“There are a few more looks in the hallway,” Santana says, then looks at Kurt. “You noticed it too?”

Kurt dips his head in acknowledgment. “A few more looks, a few more sneers. Nothing physical.”

“Nothing _yet_ ,” Santana snorts. “But Coach said she was going to break all the slushie machines with her bullhorn.” Santana shrugs. “She’ll probably hit every gas station in Allen County, and somehow, she’ll get a police commendation out of it.”

“If anything changes or anything gets worse,” Finn says, his eyebrows squishing together in concern, “you guys should let one of us know. We’ll go talk to Coach Beiste or Ms. Pillsbury, and we’ll figure out what to do. Everybody should buddy up until then, so there’s witnesses, just in case. And, you know, if you hear or see anything really bad…” Finn glances over to Kurt. 

“Pictures—or audio or video—are worth a thousand words,” Kurt finishes, nodding ever so slightly in Lauren’s direction. “Most of us have a phone that can take video or at least a picture. It’s not exactly one person’s word against another’s at that point.”

“And if you do get something on video, send me an email!” Artie says. “I might be able to use it in the documentary!”

“At our next meeting, I want to talk to everyone about the April school board meeting. Also, Connie Dean, the reporter from last week, wants to come to our next meeting. I told her that she definitely couldn’t come in during the introductions, and that Kurt, Ms. Pillsbury, and I would need to vet the footage she wanted to use.” Tina looks around the room. “Given those requirements, does everyone feel comfortable with her visiting for a piece?”

There’s some exchanging of glances, a few nods, and no objections, so Kurt nods at Tina after a moment. “I think it’ll be fine, Tina.”

“So how’d the movie night go?” one of the freshmen asks. 

There’s a slightly uncomfortable pause before Tina starts talking again. “ _RENT_ is always enjoyable, especially for us music types!”

Casey, thankfully, looks unconcerned at the mention of the movie night, and then he smiles slightly at Karofsky, who returns the smile. “What was that other movie you were going to watch?” Mandy asks. “About the politician?”

“ _Milk_ ,” Finn says. “I missed part of the middle part, but yeah, it was really interesting, and it sorta really pissed me off, to be honest.”

“Why?” Sam looks confused. 

“Well, why don’t we learn about this stuff in school?” Finn says. “Shouldn’t this be part of the, the— Kurt, help me out here, what part of history am I thinking about?”

“American? Modern?”

“No!” 

“Social?”

“Ok, just stop saying stuff now. You’re confusing me.” Finn frowns for a minute, his face twisting up in thought, and then he must have a lightbulb moment because he smiles and says, “Civil rights!”

“So, social,” Kurt mutters under his breath, even as he’s nodding slightly. 

“Sure, social, whatever,” Finn says. “But, shouldn’t we learn about this along with, like, women voting and people being sprayed with hoses and stuff like that? I saw the video clips at the beginning. Those were real videos!”

“People don’t want to teach children about things that make they themselves uncomfortable.” Kurt shrugs. “I think at some point I said I’d compile a list of books and I know I haven’t done that, but hopefully soon.”

“Oh, I have some suggestions as well!” Rachel says. “We have an extensive collection at home.”

“Forward your suggestions to me?” Kurt says, raising one eyebrow in her direction. “I don’t want to make the list overwhelming.”

“Of course!”

“Where do we find these books, anyway?” Brown asks. “I know they’re not gonna be at the Lima library. The PFLAG group oughta start our own library or something.”

“That’s a good idea,” Kurt says, though he looks sort of pained as he admits it. “Many of them are available as ebooks—Kindle, iBooks, Nook—which is cheaper than a paperback or hardback copy.”

“We probably should wait on building a library until after we finish with the school board,” Tina suggests, somewhat apologetically. “But we can still get the list from Kurt soon in case anyone wants to add to their own personal library. Or— do you have some of the books, Kurt?”

“Mostly as ebooks.”

“Well, hard to loan those out,” Tina laughs. “But yeah, one project at a time, I think.”

“I agree,” Kurt nods. “All right, everyone. Grab some, uh. Food, if you want, before you leave.”

“And if you spoke at the meeting, plan to speak next time, or just want a chance to get your face on camera, make sure you talk to me before you leave!” Artie adds. 

There’s a few people overly eager to talk to Artie as the meeting ends, but no one seems eager to get some more of Rachel’s vegan food. Puck sighs as the room slowly empties. “Rachel’s not bringing food the rest of the year, right?”

Kurt snorts. “Even if she was, I’d redo the schedule.”

“How _does_ everyone know when to bring food?” Puck asks, because he’s sort of meant to ask for months now. 

Kurt blinks and then laughs. “There’s a sign–up sheet on the food table,” he answers, pointing. 

“Oh.” Puck shrugs. “Go figure.”

Finn walks up beside Kurt and throws an arm across his shoulders. “So, meat in my locker later, huh?”

“Yes, Finn. Flesh of an animal, killed for you to enjoy.” Kurt smiles brightly. “Cow, pig?”

“Pigs are cuter, so let’s go with that,” Finn says. “I’m still feeling like the anti-vegan.”

“Pig it is, then.” Kurt shrugs. “You want pig too, Puck?”

“Sure.” Puck grins. “Bad Jew.”

“Bacon cheeseburgers for Moses!” Finn says. “It’s a thing.”

“Yeah, okay,” Puck laughs. “I’ll let you make the T-shirts.”

“One of these days, I’m gonna make all these T-shirts we keep talking about, and then I’m gonna have a _lot_ of T-shirts,” Finn says. 

“Probably.” Kurt shrugs. “All right, I will return.” Kurt shoulders his bag and exchanges a glance with Puck, a few too many people lingering to talk to Artie. “Pig, coming up.”

 

“And anyway, I don’t even know what a shower caddy _is_ , dude,” Finn says to Sam, shaking his head. “Like, where do I find one of those?”

“Isn’t that something girls carry make-up in?” Sam looks equally bewildered. “I don’t know. And three tubes of jock itch cream. What kind of school did I sign up for?”

“Well, isn’t it, I dunno, really damp in the South or something?” Finn frowns, because they didn’t put any kind of cream on his packing list. “My list had those hand warmer packets on it. The ones you snap.”

“Hmm. Watch, it’ll get cold in Louisiana next year, and I’ll write on your Wall. ‘Dude, mail me one of your hand warmer packets so I can snap it’.”

“You can’t have my packets, dude,” Finn says, as they stop in front of his locker. “You have any idea how cold it gets in Madison?” He dials his combination into his lock. 

“None,” Sam answers cheerfully.

When Finn opens his locker, he’s met with a wave of delicious meat–smell. “Aw, sweet! My pig!” He lifts the styrofoam container from his stack of books. “Drink too!”

“Where’d… how’d…” Sam pauses and shakes his head. “Is that still hot?”

Finn opens the container. “Yes! Mac ’n’ cheese! And yup, still hot.” He does a little victory dance that’s sort of more like a side to side shuffle thing with a spin thrown in at the end. Those dance classes were good for something, at least.

“Okay, do you have a food fairy or something?”

“Fairy is a perj— uh, whatever that thing is that means it’s rude. I have a _brother_.”

Sam looks even more confused for a long minute before he seems to figure it out. “Oh! Kurt brought you food?”

“Yup, guess my brother loves me more than yours loves you,” Finn says, trying to balance his food container, his cup, and open the little wrapped fork and napkin combo thing without spilling something. 

Sam laughs. “Man, my brother’s in love with Hannah Puckerman.”

Finn starts laughing, too, because yeah, that drives Puck nuts, but also because it’s really funny that Sam seems to think that’s got anything to do with Finn and Kurt. “Well, next time I talk to Hannah, I’ll tell her to talk to Stevie about the barbeque.”

“Yeah, probably won’t help, but thanks,” Sam grins. He grabs a tiny shred of pork and pops it into his mouth. “Thanks, dude. Later!”

 

Kurt does return with a plate of pig – pulled pork barbeque along with macaroni and cheese and red beans with dirty rice. Puck’s pretty sure there’s a rule against eating in the classroom, and he’s even more sure that Brad would disembowel him if he got barbeque sauce in the piano, but he eats his food right there anyway, while Kurt goes to leave food in Finn’s locker like some kind of magic pork ninja.

When he finishes eating, they leave, because it’s not like he’s going to get any more work done, anyway, not with Kurt sitting next to him on the piano bench. Kurt isn’t _doing_ anything, just sitting there and humming, but it’s enough to be distracting, especially since they have to drive to Toledo and back. 

“Maybe Tuesday night would be a good night, too,” Puck can’t help but say as they head towards the parking lot. “Especially Tuesdays when we have to go to Toledo.”

Kurt grimaces as he laughs. “Maybe so. I think we’re not going to be happy until and unless it’s every night, though.”

“Oh.” Puck nods, looking rueful. “Good point. Think we can convince everyone involved that’s a good plan?”

“Hmm. I think Hannah might be the hardest to convince, actually.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, that’s true. I’d probably end up promising her something insane like a monthly allotment of American Girl products.”

“Didn’t we already promise that?” Kurt asks, shaking his head. “No, wait, that was just American Girl _books_. Right.”

Puck’s laughter gets louder. “Yeah, we’re pretty much screwed, aren’t we?”

“If you keep in mind the discussion about how often she wants to visit and for how long? Oh, definitely,” Kurt agrees with a grin. “You want to study or drive?”

“Drive, I guess,” Puck answers. “I can study by just listening to stuff, so.” He shrugs. “I found that stupid play as an audio file. Pink monkey’s not cutting it this time, I swear this must be, like, her favorite play ever.”

“I keep managing to just not _care_ about most of my classes,” Kurt admits. “English, because I want that five. But.”

“Yeah,” Puck agrees. “Home stretch and all that. So I figured we would be last, but I thought maybe Rachel or Mike would have heard something by now.”

“Or Santana and Tina, even,” Kurt agrees. “I have this sinking feeling that we’re going to find out on March 31. Down to the wire.”

“That’s all of us, right?” Puck mentally ticks through the rest of glee club. “Oh, well, Quinn. Whatever.”

“Indeed.” Kurt shrugs. “I’m sure someone will hear something before the end of this week.” He pauses. “Just not us.”

Puck snorts. “Yeah. Is that Murphy or did we piss someone off in a past life?”

“Yes.”

 

Dr. V spends about half the time talking with Puck about how to get ahead of the times when he needs a Xanax. Realizing he _should_ have taken one isn’t as helpful as figuring it out in time to _actually_ take one. 

Then Dr. V starts talking about visualization, which sounds like maybe it’d work okay, but something Puck says starts him on a different path and scrambling for his computer. “Sonification!” Dr. V announces.

Puck furrows his brow. “What?”

“Like visualization, but with sound.”

“Oh. Ohh,” Puck nods. “Yeah. That’s cool. That’s a real word?”

“Apparently.” Dr. V grins. “I just checked.”

Puck laughs. “Got it. Okay. Sonification. Cool.” Which is exactly what he tells Kurt on the way back down 75. “Yeah, learn something new all the time, right?”

“Yes, definitely,” Kurt agrees. “Two more weeks?”

“Two more weeks. He said maybe another two weeks after that, maybe a month, wait and see what my schedule is, blah blah blah.”

“I would pay good money to actually hear him say ‘blah, blah, blah’.”

“Come to think of it, I would too.”

 

The only good thing about Wednesday, Puck decides, is the lack of dual enrollment before work. In fact, the lack of dual enrollment ends up being the only notable thing, good or bad, about Wednesday, and when he climbs into bed after talking to Kurt, he wonders if maybe they have the wrong idea about which nights to spend together. Or if he should just suck it up and promise Hannah lots of American Girl dolls and clothes and shit.

Thursday doesn’t really start out any different, until they get to the end of physics. Mrs. Strandberg closes her copy of the textbook, and thumps the day’s _Reader’s Digest_ on top of it. “There is,” she says slowly, “a community with a problem. It is a good community, full of upstanding citizens and traditional, strong families. But of course, like any community, there are those who wish to tear it down. There are even those who wish to destroy it from the inside, like the bad apple in the barrel. If the bad apple is removed quickly enough, the good apples can be saved. But if the bad apple is left, other apples, too, will quickly go bad.”

Puck can hear Kurt’s intake of breath and shoots him a quick glance. Kurt is staring at Mrs. Strandberg, his pen flying over the notebook paper. Puck looks around the class and everyone else is staring at her too, dumbfounded expressions firmly in place. No one appears to be taking her seriously, which is good, because taking her seriously would seem to imply that all of them in PFLAG or at least at the school board meeting need to be removed. 

Mrs. Strandberg keeps droning on after that, and Kurt keeps writing, but Puck tunes her out and wraps his foot around Kurt’s ankle. Fuck Mrs. Strandberg. 

 

Puck’s writing out a bass line for a provided melody when he hears – well, he’s not sure what exactly it is at first, but it’s _different_ , so he puts his pencil down and focuses on what he’s hearing. 

“Just listen to us. We’re worried about you! We didn’t know about your brother. I mean, I thought your family went to _church_ , Mandy!”

“You’ve _been_ to church with me, Naomi,” someone retorts, and Puck frowns when he realizes the ‘Mandy’ in question is the Mandy from PFLAG. 

“I didn’t know you’d stopped or I would have been inviting you to go with my family every week.”

“Or you could go to mine,” another girl’s voice adds. “We have a big new member’s welcome thing once a month. You could come next weekend.”

“Why?” Mandy sounds suspicious. “Why do you think I need a different church? What _is_ this? Some kind of intervention?”

“I just thought, with your brother and everything, your family must not be going any more,” the first girl says. “It seemed like you were saying you parents were okay with… you know, so I just assumed.”

“With my brother,” Mandy says flatly, and Puck decides to move a little closer to the door. Mandy’s handling herself fine, but if he’s careful, he might manage to record some of it. Mandy keeps talking before he can do much of anything, though. “Let me get this straight.” She snorts. “Because my parents didn’t _kick my brother out_ , you think we’re not good Christians anymore.”

“It’s in the Bible, Mandy,” the second girl, the one who’s not–Naomi, says. “You’re supposed to love the sinner, but you’ve got to hate the sin. Are your parents even trying to get your brother any help?”

“My brother doesn’t _need_ any help,” Mandy bites back. “And that’s not actually _in_ the Bible. Maybe you should read it yourself instead of listening to what Ann Coulter tells you is in it!” Puck wonders who this Ann Coulter chick is. Maybe one of those Sunday school teachers or something. 

One of the other girls make a huffing sound, maybe the Naomi one, and says, “I’ll be praying for you, Mandy.”

“Me, too. And for your family.”

There’s no response from Mandy, just the sound of three people walking in opposite directions, and Puck frowns as he sits back down. It wasn’t violent. There wasn’t any derogatory language used. He rolls his shoulders back. It still felt like a warning.

 

Schue looks positively excited when everyone arrives for rehearsal later, but it’s quickly clear that it’s because Rachel’s asked him to help her perform her television theme song selection. 

“All right, let’s get started!” he enthuses, holding the sheet music that Rachel’s handed him. Puck has to blink a bit when he realizes that, yes, Rachel is performing the theme song to _Green Acres_.

Schue takes all the parts about chores and farmland, much to everyone’s amusement. Somehow Rachel manages to make it like she’s singing about herself, not performing the song, though. “I just adore a penthouse view. Darling, I love you, but give me Park Avenue!”

“I’ll go next!” Brittany announces before anyone can comment on Rachel’s performance. Brittany clearly chose the theme to _The Brady Bunch_ because it reminds her of glee club, because she points at various club members as she sings, including Schue for the “man named Brady” and, for some exceptionally odd reason, Brad for the “lovely lady.” Brad, for his part, looks entirely unflustered by it. Finn, Kurt, and Puck are apparently Schue’s “three boys,” but the “three girls” that belong to Brad only get a vague waving hand in their direction, like Brittany can’t quite decide which three to choose. Puck finds himself leaning on Kurt laughing, Kurt’s hand pressed against his own mouth in a mostly futile attempt to stifle his laughter. Finn’s face contorts through a wide range of expressions before settling on what he probably intends to be something like a neutral face, but isn’t actually anything like one.

“That’s uh, definitely a classic theme song,” Schue says at the end, clearly fighting a few chuckles of his own. “Who’s next?”

“I can go on and go,” Finn offers. “I don’t know how I’m gonna follow _that_ performance or anything, but I’ll do my best.”

“No one can compare to my girl,” Santana shrugs, looking smug. 

“Yeah, I’m not even gonna try,” Finn agrees. “So, my mom really liked the show my song came from. It kind of creeps me out, ’cause of the dude’s hair and his weird red pajama suit, but whatever. The song is fun.”

Finn starts singing and Puck nods a little, because yeah, the red suit did sort of look like pajamas, and surely a superhero would cut his hair better. Finn’s certainly enthusiastic about the song, at least, and he finishes it with a ridiculous grin. 

“I loved _Greatest American Hero_ growing up!” Schue declares. “And one of the best theme songs. Great job, Finn!”

“Thanks, Mr. Schue,” Finn says, taking his seat. “My mom used to make us watch old tapes of that show sometimes, when we were little.” Finn points in Puck’s direction with his thumb to indicate that Puck is the other part of that ‘we’. Puck nods slightly, because it’s totally true. In retrospect, he has to wonder if Carole had a thing for the main character. 

“May I go now, Mr. Schue?” Mercedes asks. “I had to go back a little ways to find a show that even had a theme song.”

“Of course, Mercedes,” Schue nods. “Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

Mercedes sings that song from the show with the girl who married Tom Cruise, about not wanting to wait and for some reason, shrapnel. Puck’s never figured out what shrapnel had to do with a bunch of whiny teenagers. 

“Nice job. Who’d like to finish us off?”

“Quinn and I have a song,” Santana answers. “I think most of you will recognize it.” She turns to Brad and says something short, and he starts playing immediately. Santana and Quinn assure them all that they’ll be there for them, which Puck thinks is in actuality highly unlikely, but Santana was right: everyone recognizes the song. 

When they finish, Schue dismisses them, and Puck grabs his backpack as everyone leaves the room. The girls—all of them, apparently—are talking loudly about some sale on make–up and who’s going to ride in who’s car to the mall. Artie has cornered Sam, possibly about his documentary, and Mike looks distracted. 

“Sup?” Puck asks Mike, raising an eyebrow. 

“My mom texted me before rehearsal,” Mike answers. “Two letters at home.”

“Good news?” Finn asks. “Did she open them?”

“No,” Mike huffs. “Just took a picture of them. She’s bringing them over here in about…” Mike trails off and looks at his phone again. “Five minutes.”

“Ouch,” Kurt commiserates. “Pictures. I hate this not having a definite date. Sure, we could drive ourselves crazy checking online, but.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Mike nods. 

“See? This is where going the big, dumb football player route is handy,” Finn says. “But hey, you’ll know in five minutes, right?”

Mike groans. “Don’t remind me. I almost forgot for about thirty seconds during Brittany’s performance.”

“Dude, I think some of us forgot who we were during that,” Puck offers. “Which two?”

“Boston and Purchase. Purchase is kind of my back-up if I don’t get in at Boston, which I now think might have been really dumb.”

“C’mon,” Puck offers, prodding Mike in the shoulder. “Gotta face the music. Or the dancing. Whatever.”

Kurt laughs. “We’re hysterical.” 

“You’re something, anyway,” Finn says.

“Hmph,” Kurt huffs, as they herd Mike out the door and towards where his mother’s car is waiting, and then they turn towards the parking lot. “Lucky,” Kurt mutters under his breath as soon as Mike’s out of earshot. 

“Told you. Murphy.”

“I know,” Kurt agrees.

“Speaking of names that start with an M,” Puck frowns. “Heard something… I don’t know. Something. Earlier, outside the choir room.”

“What kind of something?” Finn asks, looking suspicious and like he’s ready to go on full alert on a moment’s notice.

“Mandy and some other girls. One of them was apparently named Naomi. The other one wasn’t.” Puck shrugs. “Anyway, something about praying and how Mandy must not be going to church because her parents weren’t getting her brother any ‘help’ or hating his ‘sin’.”

“Oh, lovely,” Kurt sighs. 

“Dude, that _sucks_ ,” Finn says. “Was Mandy ok?”

“Yeah, she held her own. I tried to like, record it or something, but they were already so far into the conversation.” Puck shrugs. “I don’t know. Nothing overt about it, but.”

“Well, good for her,” Finn says. “That’s creepy.”

“Yeah, it kinda was,” Puck agrees. 

“Godless heathens unite,” Kurt quips. “You count as godless, I think, baby.”

“Probably. No crosses.”

“Not enough Jesus,” Finn adds. 

“It sounds like a really bad line of toys. ‘Now with added Jesus’!” Puck laughs. “Or maybe an energy drink for Christians.”

“Yeah, I think it’s probably grape juice flavored,” Finn says. “I don’t think it’ll go over really well, though. ‘Whatcha drinking?’ ‘Oh, you know, Jesus’.”

“Good thing I don’t believe in a higher power, or I’d fear being struck down by said higher power right about now,” Kurt says wryly. 

“I’m taller,” Finn points out. “I think it’s like with trees and lightning, and higher power bolts hit the tallest thing.”

“Or maybe the most vulgar or something,” Puck suggests with a shrug. 

“So, you then?” Finn says, poking Puck in the shoulder. 

“Yep. Bacon _and_ vulgarity.”

“Oh, dude, you are so screwed then,” Finn says. “But hey, that means Kurt’s safe, right? So that’s good.”

“Thanks, dude,” Puck rolls his eyes. “If we get lucky, Santana’ll be around, and we’ll all make it out alive.”

“I thought that was the plan anyway. No higher power over here, remember?”

“Let’s go with Kurt’s plan. Kurt has a good plan.”

“Of course I do.” Kurt smiles brightly. “Right now my plan is go home and eat dinner.”

“That’s a good plan, too,” Finn says. “I’ll meet you guys back at the house.” With that, he heads off in the direction of his truck. 

 

Puck wakes up on Friday morning mentally calculating how much of his paycheck might have to go to Middleton, Wisconsin, and what does it even say about him now that he knows it’s going to some suburb of Madison? Maybe Finn can just hand-deliver the checks starting in August. 

He runs a finger down Kurt’s nose, grinning as Kurt wrinkles it and then opens his eyes. “Morning,” Kurt whispers. 

“Good morning,” Puck answers. “Are we doing Starbucks this morning?”

Kurt makes a face. “Unless Finn just really wants to, I’d rather not.”

“So somewhere else for breakfast,” Puck concludes with a wry smile. “Got it.”

“Do we let Finn pick? Because we’ll end up at, I don’t know. Happy Daz, or McDonald’s.”

“They are cheap, at least,” Puck points out, then runs his tongue along Kurt’s ear. “Mmm, can you skip showering this morning?”

“What would I do with all that extra time?” Kurt asks quietly. “Catch up on homework?”

“Nope.” Puck nips at Kurt’s earlobe. “Fuck me.”

“Oh, well. That is more exciting than homework.”

“I’m much more exciting than school and school–related things,” Puck agrees. “You could show me how much more exciting I am.”

“I could,” Kurt agrees. “I think I like that idea, actually.” Kurt’s hand runs slowly down Puck’s side, then stops on his hip. Kurt pushes at Puck slightly. “Mmm, turn over.”

Puck turns on to his other side, pressing back against Kurt as he does so. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Good idea.”

Kurt wraps one arm around Puck’s waist briefly, pulling the two of them together, and then stretches forward enough to snag the bottle off the bedside table. “Mmmhmm,” Kurt says, and Puck can feel him nodding against his back. There’s a click and then two slick fingers press at Puck’s entrance. “Yeah, want you, baby,” Kurt breathes. “I love waking up this way.”

“Me too,” Puck chuckles, moving his hips into Kurt’s touch. Kurt’s fingertips push gently at Puck’s prostate, and he bites down on his lip to keep from crying out. The door’s closed, they’re under Kurt’s blankets and duvets and everything, but it’s still _morning_ , and there are movements and footsteps and water running outside the room. “Now, blue eyes,” Puck whispers. “C’mon.”

Puck can feel Kurt shift on the bed, and then his fingers leave and his cock takes their place, his hand urging Puck’s leg upwards as Kurt slides in. They stay still for a moment, and Puck tightens around Kurt for a second, grinning. “Should I move?” Kurt whispers, teasingly. 

“Fuck yes,” Puck responds, maybe a little louder than he intends, but Kurt just giggles and starts to move slowly, his arm going back around Puck’s waist. His hand drops close to Puck’s erection, teasing near the base. 

“Feel so good, baby,” Kurt murmurs. “God, I love fucking you. Want you so much, all the time.”

Puck lets his eyes close as Kurt talks, moving in and out of Puck slowly and then a bit faster, his hand still teasing. “Please,” Puck finally whispers. “Fuck, blue eyes, please.”

Kurt’s hand closes around Puck’s cock, sliding up and down easily. “Yes,” he agrees softly. “Yes. God, you feel so amazing.” Kurt’s speed increases, moving in Puck as his hand moves over him. “So fucking good, baby.” Kurt presses his lips against Puck’s shoulders, and Puck fights the urge to move as well, to babble loudly. “Fuck. God, Puck, going to…” Kurt breaks off, humming slightly as he thrusts into Puck, and Puck grins, moving into Kurt’s grip. Kurt comes with one last thrust, and Puck rocks in place twice before coming as well, letting his head fall backwards just enough to rest against Kurt’s. 

After a moment, Kurt presses his lips to Puck’s neck repeatedly. “Mmm. Nice start to the weekend?”

Puck laughs. “Definitely.” Puck turns in Kurt’s arms and slides his own arm around Kurt’s waist before kissing him slowly. 

There’s a soft tapping on the door a minute later, and Kurt pulls away and turns his head towards the hall. “Yes?” he calls, raising his voice. 

“You guys up?” Finn says through the door. “I’ll go away if you aren’t.”

“If we weren’t, we wouldn’t be able to answer you,” Kurt points out. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Waffles. Or maybe something with toast. Or waffles.”

“Waffles or toast. Check,” Puck answers, stretching as they climb out of bed. “You would never make it on that low-carb diet thing.”

“I don’t need a diet,” Finn says. “Wait, do I need a diet? Do you think I should go on a diet?”

“Uh, no?” Puck pulls on a shirt and makes a confused face at Kurt, who just shrugs. “What are you talking about? I just meant, you know. Atkins or whatever might not be for you. No waffles.”

“But why would I need Atkins?” Finn sounds worried. “We’re dancing all the time. I’m even lifting weights again! Do you think maybe I shouldn’t eat waffles?”

“Finn. Goodness,” Kurt says. “Waffles are fine. No one thinks you need a diet. It was a joke.”

“Ok. Ok,” Finn says. “You’re sure?”

“We’re sure, dude,” Puck says, shaking his head even though Finn can’t see them. “We’ll go get some waffles _and_ toast.”

“Maybe I’ll _just_ have waffles.” There’s a long pause. “You know, just in case.”

“Just in case what?” Puck mouths at Kurt, but Kurt just shrugs, looking equally confused. 

“We’ll— okay, _Puck_ will be down in a minute. I take longer,” Kurt says, rolling his eyes ever so slightly, though whether at himself, Puck, or Finn, or some combination thereof, Puck isn’t quite sure. 

“Ok, I’ll go downstairs and wait, then,” Finn says. “You should wear the blue thing. It’s nice and you haven’t worn it in a while.” Puck can hear Finn walking down the stairs. 

“The blue thing?”

“I have no clue,” Kurt admits. 

“Maybe that hat?”

“Surely he’d remember to call a hat a hat.” Kurt shrugs. “Maybe, though.” He looks critically in the mirror. “I suppose I could attempt to find it. And if we’re right, we should get a prize.”

“Excellence in Finnterpretation?” Puck jokes. 

“Exactly.” 

“Well, as you said. I’m ready.” Puck snorts and picks up his backpack. “Coffee here before we go?”

“Please.”

Puck thuds down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Finn is drinking orange juice out of the carton. Finn stares at Puck over the top of the carton before slowly lowering it.

“Don’t tell Kurt!”

“Do you really think I’d have to tell him for him to know?” Puck raises one eyebrow, crossing to the coffee pot. 

“Shit. No, probably not.” Finn returns the orange juice to the fridge. “He _always_ knows. I don’t know how, but he does.”

“Gay ninja.” Puck pours two cups of coffee, then looks at Finn and raises his eyebrows again in question. 

“Yeah, sure, thanks!” 

Puck nods and pours a third cup, sliding it across the counter towards Finn. “Casey’s shindig tonight.”

“I can’t believe you guys rented Rinky Dinks, dude,” Finn says, for probably the fifteenth time since he heard. “He’s turning _sixteen_ , not six.”

“And he probably never had a party at Rinky Dinks,” Puck points out. “Even if he’d had stand–up parents, Karofsky says they lived up near Robb Park.”

“Yeah. He probably’ll love it, anyway,” Finn says, shrugging. “I mean, he pretty much loves everything, right?”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, he does.” Footsteps on the stairs announce Kurt before he appears, and then Kurt stops in the doorway.

“This blue thing, Finn?”

“You wore it!” Finn beams at Kurt. “Last time I think you wore it was when you wore that whitish sort of sweatery thing.”

“It’s not below freezing today,” Kurt says, taking his cup of coffee from Puck’s hand. “No need. Did Mike post anything on Facebook?”

“Just ‘Boston’,” Finn says. “And Tina posted, ‘Boston’ exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point.”

Kurt grins and Puck’s pretty sure he’s grinning too. “I suppose that means.” Kurt stops for a second. “Wellesley, I think.”

“I’m really happy for them, getting to stay together,” Finn says. “That’s nice, the two of them in Boston.” He pauses. “The two of you in New York.”

Yeah, the two of them in New York _should_ make Puck happy but it just reminds him that they’re _still waiting_ , so he struggles to muster up a smile and take another cup of coffee. 

“It is,” Kurt agrees. “I’m not sure how their parents feel about it, but.” He grins. “I can’t imagine Mr. Chang thinking it was a good idea to go to school near Mike’s high school girlfriend. I’m assuming Mike managed to avoid getting into Juilliard.”

“Well, Mike’s probably happy, anyway,” Finn says, shrugging. “Some high school relationships last and, you know, if it’s anybody it’ll be them and you guys.”

“Let’s just say I’m not putting money on Sam and Mercedes,” Kurt says candidly. 

“I don’t think anybody is at this point.”

“You think Brittany and Santana will make it?” Finn asks. 

“’Tana’s gonna be over on the west coast, and Britt in Florida?” Puck shrugs. “Who knows? If they do, it’ll be because they get back together. Not because they stay together continuously.”

“Well, Brittany’ll have the circus to keep her busy, at least,” Finn says. “I guess it’s hard to know these things. Everything about high school seems to last forever, but then you turn around and it’s all just. You know.”

“Coming to a speeding end?” Kurt offers. “Too fast and not fast enough, simultaneously?”

“Something like that. It’s just… it’s not like I thought it would be, I guess.”

“No,” Puck agrees. “Fed us a pack of lies. Speaking of feeding. Ready?”

 

Mrs. Strandberg doesn’t mention anything on Friday. She goes back to reading from the stupid _Chicken Soup_ book and then reads from the textbook right up until the bell, at which point she moves things around on her desk, almost pointedly not looking at the class. English is weird, too, their teacher making half the class do a dramatic reading of the play while the other half of them just sit and “follow along.” 

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Rachel asks as they leave the classroom. “I admit I’m not necessarily looking forward to another all–day dancing marathon, but I’m sure we’ll appreciate the results!”

“I haven’t thought about it, really,” Puck admits. “Still thinking about tonight.”

“Oh, right.” Rachel grins. “That’s going to be fun. The car’s all finished?”

Puck nods. “Yep. Car, fuzzy dice, AAA membership, gas cards, and insurance courtesy of Brown’s mother or something.”

“So exciting!” Rachel grins. “I have another gas card, actually,” she adds, rummaging in her bag before handing it to Puck. “Daddy gave it to me last night.”

“Cool.” Puck tucks the card into his backpack as they walk into the choir room, and he goes to pick up his acoustic as Rachel sits down. 

“Going first?” Schue asks Puck, and Puck shrugs.

“I can, unless someone else wants to.” No one else volunteers, so Puck straps on his guitar. “Thought I’d up the Whedon quotient.” Artie, Tina, and Kurt all grin as Puck starts to play. “Take my love, take my land, take me where I cannot stand.” Half of the room looks utterly confused as Puck finishes the short song. 

“ _Firefly_!” Tina cries with a grin after Puck finishes. “I need more of Captain Tight Pants.”

“Don’t we all,” Kurt drawls, and most of the room laughs. 

“I’ll go next,” Tina offers. “Continuing my theme of music from amazing ’80s movies.” 

“Boston!” Brittany calls out.

Tina laughs and gives Brittany a thumbs up. “Boston,” she agrees, then nods at Brad and the jazz band. 

“Tell me your troubles and doubts, giving me everything inside and out,” Tina sings until she reaches the end. “Will you call my name?”

“Great job!” Schue practically beams. “And a fantastic movie. Even if it was a little before _my_ time, too.” He scans the room. “Sam? Kurt?”

“I’ll go,” Sam volunteers, shouldered his own guitar. “I’m gonna do ‘Bad Things’.”

“Great!”

“When you came in,” Sam croons, “the air went out, and every shadow filled up with doubt.” He has a lot of fun with the song, bowing slightly at the end before retaking his seat. 

Kurt raises an eyebrow at Puck and then Finn, and Puck nods slightly as they go up with him. “Veronica Mars,” Kurt says as he reaches the front. He scans the room ever so slightly before starting to sing. “A long time ago, we used to be friends, but I haven’t thought of you lately at all.” 

Schue just sort of nods thoughtfully, like he can’t decide if Kurt meant it as a message of some kind. “All right. Well, Mike or Artie?”

“We’re actually performing together,” Mike says with a grin. “Anyone can join in if they want, too.” 

“Oh? What song?”

Mike just keeps grinning. “Boston!” is all he says, and Tina laughs. 

“Making your way in the world today takes everything you got. Taking a break from all your worries sure would help a lot,” Mike and Artie start together, and there’s some scattered laughter. As the song continues, though, most of the rest of them join in, until they finish the song with all of them in a clump at the front of the room. 

“You wanna go where everyone knows your name.”


	3. Perfectly Fair Swap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Books are easier to fix than people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This chapter contains references to a past suicide attempt. 
> 
> [Playlist for Perfectly Fair Swap](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLA9C9EF74007C59FB)

_Milk_ is not even a little bit like _RENT_. Apart from the obvious not being any singing in it thing, it’s just a lot darker and more awful, which is saying something, since _RENT_ is all about AIDS and death and stuff. Even the funny parts, and there’s a lot of funny parts, have this undercurrent of sadness. Maybe it’s because Harvey Milk was a real person, and only real people can feel sad like that.

Kurt gets really excited about Cleve, which Casey can kind of understand, because Cleve is pretty cute, except for the hair. Not _David_ –handsome or anything, but still cute. The speeches are all great and the whole dog poop law thing is funny, and even though Casey’s got a pretty good understanding that this isn’t going to be a movie with a happy ending, he’s just not ready when it all turns bad.

Harvey comes home and there’s notes all up the stairs, and Casey’s not sure _why_ he starts breathing hard and fast, he just knows that he does, and he can’t stop. He’s shaking and all he really, really wants is for Harvey to _not_ push back that curtain. He doesn’t want to see what’s on the other side of the curtain, he really doesn’t want David to see what’s on the other side of the curtain, and he very much doesn’t want to be sitting on the sofa between David and Miles, watching this movie.

David’s been leaning ever so slightly against Casey throughout the movie, accommodating Casey’s shirt–sleeve–clinging, but when Harvey pushes back the curtain, David straightens up and goes completely rigid, maybe not even breathing. _Oh god oh god_ , David is watching this, David shouldn’t be watching this, _Casey_ shouldn’t be watching this, this, _this_ is what Casey did, David was there, David was the one who found him—

Casey doesn’t even realize that the horrible noise he hears is coming out of him until he’s curled in a little ball against David, crying too hard to even hear the movie any more. He ruins everything. He can’t even watch a movie without ruining it. He never should have called David. David never should have come for him.

Suddenly, somebody has him by the arms, hauling him to his feet, and he’s not really sure where he’s going, just that he’s walking and David is still there. Then they’re outside, then they’re at David’s truck, and somebody, Miles maybe, opens the truck door and shoves him inside. David is right there in his seat, so Casey balls up against him, sobbing “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

 

Dave doesn’t want to remember. Dave is pretty sure he could happily have gone his entire life without seeing a scene like the one in the movie, and he knows he doesn’t want to remember, not like this. Not remembering how it actually felt, the moments that felt like hours between when Dave got there and when the ambulance showed up. 

Dave might actually have to admit Miles had a good idea, since Dave isn’t sure he would have managed to get out of the room with Casey on his own. After they manage to get into the truck, Casey curls up against him again, “I’m sorry” dropping repeatedly from his lips. 

“Don’t say that,” Dave whispers. “Don’t.”

Casey clings to Dave more tightly, but the apologies peter out. Dave realizes he’s shaking his head slowly, and he’s not even sure what he’s saying no to. This isn’t how Dave wanted to spend his Saturday evening. Dave doesn’t know what to do or say or anything. Maybe it won’t get too cold that night and they can just sleep right there in front of Brown’s house. 

Gradually, Casey starts to quiet down, but his grip on Dave’s arm doesn’t loosen. “Case,” Dave says quietly after a long moment passes. “Case.”

“David,” Casey answers, his voice quivering. 

“You’re not Jack,” Dave says, his own voice low. “You’re not.”

“I could have been.”

“But you aren’t.”

“You came to my house,” Casey says. “You came to find me. I shouldn’t have called you to come.”

“And then you would be Jack!” Dave says angrily. 

“You wouldn’t be having to put me back together every five minutes!” Casey says.

“You’re _alive_!”

“But what if I _shouldn’t_ be?” Casey asks, his voice breaking on the last word. 

Dave swallows and squares his jaw. “That shouldn’t be a question.”

“I ruin everything,” Casey whispers. “Everything good.”

“What the fuck?” Dave shakes his head. “Where… where do you _get_ this stuff, Case?”

Casey pulls away from Dave’s arm enough to peer up into his face. “But I do, David,” he says, matter of factly. “I ruined everything for my mom and dad, and now I’m messing everything up with you, too.”

Dave just stares at Casey. “Casey, I… I don’t know what kind of shit – but that’s not true.”

“It _is_ true,” Casey insists. “You’ve missed school, you worry all the time, I _know_ you worry. I wake you up at night. I made it so you can’t even watch _movies_ , David. And that’s not even talking about the other stuff, about _Monday_.”

“I don’t know why you say you ruin things, Case. I don’t. I can’t— it’s obvious I can’t convince you otherwise.” Dave squeezes the steering wheel in front of him. “How can I _not_ worry, when you tell me things like this?”

Casey shrinks in on himself. “I wish we could go back to how it was. The night of the dance.”

“Yeah, that’d be good. You could go back to your parents and – no, wait, not quite so good, Case,” Dave bites out. “Fuck! I don’t know what to do.”

“I was happy,” Casey says, almost too quietly to hear. “You were happy. Not the after stuff, but just then. We were both happy.”

“Fuck,” Dave repeats, fingers tight on the steering wheel. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Casey says. “I know you think you do. You don’t.”

“ _Someone_ has to,” Dave points out. “I’m sorry, Case, but it’s true.”

“It doesn’t have to be you. It could be somebody else,” Casey says, sounding desperate. “Then you could just be my friend again. And I could just be your friend again.”

“Great. Perfect,” Dave scoffs. “Why don’t we pick out one of the many responsible adults surrounding us who are clamoring to help, and we’ll be friends again. Because apparently we’re not.”

“David,” Casey says. “We’re friends. Of course we’re friends. It’s just, you said, you said I was your best friend, only I don’t feel like your best friend. I feel like your _problem_. That’s just how I feel all the time, like everybody’s problem. They all look at me like I’m gonna explode. And maybe they’re right. I mean, look at me, David.”

“I don’t know how _not_ to try to help if I see something wrong, Case. And what I see – what I see pisses me off. Not you. Just.” Dave sighs. “I just don’t know.”

“I don’t know either. I don’t want you to worry or be sad or be mad, and you are, and it’s my fault,” Casey says. “You’re my best thing. Not just now, but before, too. Ever.” He makes a movement with his shoulders that’s almost a shrug. “And I’m your _problem_.”

“You aren’t a problem!” Dave insists. “Okay?”

“I wish I could make you happy instead of sad.” Casey leans up enough to rest his hand on top of Dave’s on the steering wheel. “I wish you didn’t have to know all the bad stuff and you weren’t mad, and could just be happy again.”

“And there’s no way I could be okay with that, Case,” Dave breathes. “Even if I didn’t know the bad stuff, you’d still be living it.”

“It’s like that stupid story we read freshman year,” Casey says, moving his thumb in a little circle on the back of Dave’s hand. “Where she sells her hair and he sells his pocket watch.”

Dave laughs. “Or the soap dish for rubber duckie and the paperclip collection thing.”

“I’ve seen that one!” Casey smiles so widely his cheeks might crack. “It’s _exactly_ like that. Only, I’ll be Ernie, okay?”

“You don’t want to own a paperclip collection?” Dave tries to look very puzzled.

“No, but I don’t mind if you hang it up in our apartment,” Casey says. “But no pigeons. They kind of creep me out.”

“I watched that Hitchcock movie years ago and now _all_ birds creep me out,” Dave agrees. 

“I thought that was just me! Why would anybody want to keep a bird for a pet?” Casey asks, widening his eyes and shaking his head like it’s the world’s greatest mystery. 

“Allergic to fur is the only reason I ever came up with.”

“Fish. Lizards. Sea monkeys.”

“Lizards are good.”

“We can have a lizard in our apartment. A colorful one. The paperclip collection goes on your side, but the lizard can live in the middle,” Casey says.

“Good to know,” Dave nods, turning his head slightly. 

“But the twin beds thing, that’s very 1950s tv show, I think,” Casey continues. “Maybe bunk beds or something. That’s more contemporary. Only, no sides then. Hmm.”

Dave chuckles. “Hire an interior designer?”

“On my movie monster salary? I don’t think I can afford it. Why do you think we’re sharing an apartment with only one room and no proper shower, David?”

Dave guffaws. “Good point, Case. Maybe someone will donate their time.”

“You might have to support us on your football money or something, so we can have real furniture,” Casey says.

“Craigslist’ll come through, right?”

“I don’t know, David. I’m accustomed to a certain standard of living.”

Dave laughs. “And books in order!”

“How else do you _find_ them? And they’re just so much happier when they’re fixed like they should be!” Casey shakes his head, then gives Dave a shy look. “Maybe… maybe you do need me around, after all.”

Dave nods a little solemnly. “My bookshelves need you. It’s true. I doubt you could teach me to do it myself.”

“I’ll just have to put all your books away for you forever, I guess,” Casey agrees. “You are a little bit hopeless at putting away books.” 

“Very hopeless.” Dave smiles crookedly at Casey, his hands finally relaxing on the steering wheel. Casey gently takes Dave’s hand off the wheel, lacing his fingers through Dave’s and leaning against him, their hands resting in the space between them.

“That’s probably a perfectly fair swap then, you know,” Casey says. 

“Definitely.” Dave exhales, looking at Casey. Casey’s still looking up at him almost shyly and Dave smiles a little more. His head tilts forward and Casey tilts his head up. Dave feels like time is really, really slow suddenly, and Casey blinks. Dave leans closer to Casey, and just as Casey’s eyes start to close, Dave’s own eyes widen, and he corrects his course abruptly, resting his forehead against Casey’s. 

Casey lets out a shuddering breath and his hand tightens on Dave’s. They stay like that, not moving, not speaking, until there’s a creak and extra light spilling out as the door to Brown’s house starts to open. Dave sighs and pulls away without a sound, turning on the truck to drive away before anyone notices them.


End file.
